Edge of the Darkness
by Souderwan
Summary: Sequel to Fall of the Sith. For 19 yrs after the Fall of the Sith, Anakin and Padmé Skywalker have raised their children in a freer, more hopeful Galaxy. It has been a time of unparalleled peace. But at the edge of the darkness, something stirs...
1. Edge of the Darkness, Prologue

**Edge of the Darkness**

_**Prologue...**_

_It is not a place. It is a state of being. Light and dark are meaningless there. It is a state of abeyance. It is a state of suspension. To be exiled to oblivion is to be lost to all, to be forgotten._

_This is the power of the dark._

_For the dark is generous, but more importantly…the dark is patient._

_Light exists as long as fuel feeds it..._

_Even stars burn out._

_And when they do…in the midst of oblivion…at the edge of the darkness..._

_...darkness stirs._

* * *

At the insubstantial edges of the Outer Rim, in areas uncharted and unvisited by the common traveler, an otherwise insignificant point in space twisted and churned briefly before exploding in a shower of light and spewing forth a small vessel.

It was a small ship, having only enough room for a small command crew and one or two passengers and their cargo. As the ship maneuvered away from its hyperspace arrival point, its lower two stabilizers folded upwards and met neatly at the top to join a third dorsal fin. The occupants of the vessel were hidden behind an opaque rectangular viewport that seemed to swallow what little ambient light was available in this relatively lightless part of the galaxy.

As the ship drew closer to its destination, an invisible beam grasped hold of it and guided it to the designated hangar bay at the equator of the massive metal orb that hung like an ominous moon in the blackness of space.

A moment later, the tiny vessel vanished, consumed by the immense metal sphere.

She stared briefly at her reflection in the gleaming metal ramp before raising her cowl to cover her face. Time had been kind to her, she mused. Her hips had remained as slender as they had been when she escaped that hellish planet. Thin lines had formed along the corners of her eyes and crevices had grown into her high cheekbones. Despite these minor imperfections, her lithe form was just as firm and toned as it had always been. Altogether satisfactory. Smiling to herself, she turned ever so slightly to the copilot and nodded curtly.

The lowering of the ramp was interminable. She had never been one to be patient in anything, and waiting for the largely ceremonial unveiling of the hangar bay served only to grate on her nerves. Remembering her recent teachings, she drew on that irritation and turned it into rage. The fiery power charged into her and she had to force herself to suppress the glee that it brought from showing on her face.

_Show no emotion._

Nodding inwardly, she wrapped the soothing frozen blanket of control around the fire and smothered it for now.

She stepped onto the now fully lowered ramp in even, measured steps, ignoring the rows of gleaming black-armored troops standing at attention in some vain attempt to impress her. The spotless obsidian floors on which they stood made it seem as if the soldiers grew from the deck itself. Like the rest of the vast ship, they were inconsequential. All that held her attention was the tall, elegant man who waited patiently at the bottom of the gangway.

"My Lord," the Admiral said with the perfect clipped Coruscanti accent she so despised. His bow was slight but respectful. "Welcome. The quarters you requested are right this way."

She nodded. "Very good, Tarkin," she replied, noting with some surprise how raspy her voice sounded from several months of self-imposed disuse. He pursed his lips briefly and tilted his head and then turned to exit the bay. She chose to say nothing more as she followed alongside Tarkin, noting with pleasure his apparent effort to make it seem that it was she doing the leading.

They rode the turbolift in silence, the Admiral only periodically chancing a sidelong glance at her through narrowed eye-lids during the short journey. When the doors slid apart to the spacious room, Tarkin took a long stride into the room. As she crossed the threshold, she braced herself and ignored the screaming warning in her head.

Her cheek exploded.

She twisted her head away from the blow, then yanked the cowl from her bald skull and glared at her attacker.

Wilhuf Tarkin's face was completely unreadable. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, his uniform immaculate on his lithe frame. The only indication that he had just struck her was the high arch of his right eyebrow.

"Why did you do that?" she snarled.

"It would be best in the future, my dear, that you refer to me by my proper rank in front of my men," he replied conversationally.

"They are nothing more than mindless clones! What does it matter? Besides, to them, you're my [isubordinate[/i! I can call you what I want!" His lips thinned. She winced inwardly as his face paled. When she felt no new warning, she stepped toward him. Tentatively, she used the backs of her fingers to caress his cheek. "Let's not fight," she whispered as huskily as she could manage.

"Perhaps later, Asajj," Tarkin snapped, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from his face. He walked to the transparisteel port and looked out into the black nebula. "Are your preparations complete?"

"I would not be here otherwise." She moved to stand beside him, excited by the prospect of what his question might mean. "The station is ready?" She could barely contain the elation in her voice.

He placed a hand on his semitransparent reflection. It was as tender a gesture she had ever seen him make. "Yes," he replied. "Had I not been forced to funnel my funding through so many secret programs over the last two decades we would have been complete long ago." He sighed and turned away from her. "You are certain of him?"

"He is no Palpatine, but he will do."

"No one can compare to the Chancellor."

She snaked her arms around him from behind and leaned her head against his back. "There is no past. We must focus on the future. Our plans are in place. He will do."

"He only need play his role."

"I told you that he will!" Asajj snapped and pulled away. "What of your clones? Do you have them under control?"

Tarkin turned and looked at her sternly before replying. "The ones that remain from the war continue to believe that they are assisting in the development of the ultimate deterrent weapon." He smiled. "Of course, that is true to a point. The ones we are breeding here on the station have been modified to be loyal to us, first and foremost. Our Kaminoan guests assure me that we will have exceeded our troop strength requirements within months."

"Everything really is in place, then," she whispered.

"You sound surprised, my dear."

"I have waited far too long to exact my revenge on the Jedi." Her lips curled into a snarl.

Tarkin shook his head. "There are larger concerns, Asajj, than your personal and irrational vendetta against the Jedi Order. If I didn't know better, I would think that there is more to this than just the loss of Palpatine."

Asajj held her breath.

_Show no emotion._

"The Chancellor was my mentor and my friend," she said at length. "You know this or you would never have sought me out."

"I confess, when he provided me your information, I had never thought it would be relevant." Tarkin looked back out the window into the blackness. "He had always seemed so…invincible."

"We are hand-selected, you and I," Asajj whispered. She slid next to him and stared at the side of his face. He did not turn to look at her. "We are personally chosen to see his vision complete. Part of his vision was the elimination of the Jedi. The fact that this will please me greatly is only a personal bonus."

"Indeed," Tarkin replied, keeping his attention focused beyond the boundaries of the battle station. "Well you shall have your vengeance, Asajj Ventress, of that you can be assured."


	2. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 1

**Chapter 1**

**Dark Treasure**

"Ugghh!"

Blinking a bead of sweat from his eyes, Obi-Wan pushed back hard against sky-blue blade that pressed against his lightsaber. He only managed to drive his opponent back a meter at most, but it was enough. Slipping to the right, he spun as quickly as he could, adding momentum to his swing as he arced his weapon down at—

Nothing.

Obi-Wan raised his blade and turned, noting for the first time just how truly oppressive the darkness in the cave was. Drawing a silent breath, he opened his perceptions to the Force, even though this was unlikely to aid him in finding his quarry.

With his opponent's weapon deactivated, the only illumination in the cavern came from Obi-Wan's lightsaber. He waited. His adversary was capable of a great many things, but patience was not one of them.

A flicker.

Obi-Wan spun in place, raising his weapon across his body. A burst of white energy lit the murky chamber as his attacker's saber locked with it.

"Ugghhh!!" he grunted under the strength of the blow.

Before he could drive the blade back, it lifted away and came up hard at a seemingly impossible angle. At the last instant, Obi-Wan spun away and thrust out at the source of the attack. He winced in frustration as his blade was knocked aside with nary a grunt from his opponent.

A whispered warning in the Force.

His opponent lashed out at him in a sudden flurry of motion. Obi-Wan sank into himself, surrendering to the Force.

Again and again, the weapons collided and rebounded off each other in a fierce staccato, each explosive impact igniting the cave in a glowing lightning storm.

His much younger opponent whirled about at speeds so fast, that Obi-Wan could hardly follow his movements. Steadfastly, despite the rapidity of the blows, he managed to evade and ward off each strike that rained down on him.

His weathered face was stern but calm during the onslaught. Age had forced him to learn to economize his movements, sacrificing strength and speed for efficiency and guile. He shifted his feet subtly with each new blow, maintaining a tight circle of defense as he deflected each attack. He rotated in fluid movements that conserved energy, his blue-white blade twirling just enough to intercept his adversary's assault.

"You cannot win, Anakin," Obi-Wan breathed as he chanced a quick moment to wipe another bead of sweat from his brow.

"So you keep telling me, old man!"

Obi-Wan thrust out at the source of the voice. Anakin Skywalker leaped high in the air and over Obi-Wan's head, landing fleet-footed behind him. Anakin's blade swung in a tight arc towards Obi-Wan's suddenly exposed back. His eyes widened when his weapon clashed harmlessly against Obi-Wan's blade, which had come out of nowhere.

Obi-Wan willed the right corner of his mouth upwards in a half-smile. "That won't work this time."

Anakin scowled. Instantly his blade became a blue-white blur.

Obi-Wan responded at once, increasing his own speed to match the sudden barrage. Anakin's attack grew fiercer by the moment, pummeling against Obi-Wan's carefully structured defense.

_Perhaps upsetting him wasn't such a good idea,_ Obi-Wan mused.

The blows became a deluge, raining down more violently with each new strike. Obi-Wan's blade intercepted each attack with determined precision. There was no chance to counterstrike. There was no respite.

Finally, it began.

To the untrained eye, the moment would have been imperceptible. A novice fighter would never have seen the subtle shift that marked the beginning of the end of the duel. Even a skilled swordsman might have missed that ineffable moment when Obi-Wan's age and skill finally began to give way.

Gradually, the Jedi Master's defensive ring began to collapse in on itself. His once graceful parries shortened to hasty blocks. Realizing his predicament, Obi-Wan began to shift backwards, giving ground to his younger, more powerful opponent. Anakin's face was tight with apparent concentration, his brows knitted and his eyes fierce.

Another strike landed hard against Obi-Wan's defense. He pulled his lips tightly together as the blades interlocked, Anakin's dark image suddenly framed by the crossed particle beams. The two men glared into each other's eyes, neither giving ground as their muscles strained against each other.

Sucking in a fierce breath, Obi-Wan shoved hard with the Force to create some distance between himself and his attacker. If Anakin was affected by the surge of power, he didn't show it. Instead, he grinned.

Obi-Wan frowned. _Not good_, his mind warned.

"You can do better than that, old man!"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he kicked out with his knee. Hard. Into Anakin's exposed groin.

Skywalker's weapon clattered to the ground and deactivated. His knees buckled and he dropped like a stone to the dirt floor, coughing. Demurely, Obi-Wan silenced his own blade and replaced it on his belt.

"How's that?" he grinned.

"Does…low blow…mean anything to you?" Anakin wheezed as he rolled over onto his back, as if hoping that position would somehow alleviate the pain.

"When you're my age, there is no such thing as a 'low blow', Anakin." Obi-Wan reached down and picked up Anakin's lightsaber from the floor. "I believe this round goes to me. That about evens us up, doesn't it?"

"Not…fair!" Anakin twisted around and got to his knees, sitting back on his heels as he curled his back to place his head on the floor. He turned his head to the side and glared up at Obi-Wan. "I…had you. You cheated!"

"One would think that at your age, you'd have learned to stop whining by now." Obi-Wan raised his right eyebrow and Anakin glared harder.

Anakin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearly calling on the Force. Obi-Wan stood still, waiting. Wrinkles suddenly formed on Anakin's forehead and Obi-Wan felt a ripple of concern flow from him.

"What was _that_?" Anakin suddenly leapt to his feet, lit a glow stick, and looked furtively around the cave.

"Don't try and change the subject, Anakin," Obi-Wan retorted. "I know your tricks. I want your concession."

"Fine!" Anakin snapped. "You win. But don't think that'll work again."

Obi-Wan laughed as he handed Anakin's lightsaber back to him. "Yes, I'm quite aware of that. I had hoped to save that particular maneuver for a while more. I guess my old age is finally catching up with me."

Anakin moved the glow stick about the room again as if searching for something and then seemed to relax. He looked at Obi-Wan as if seeing him for the first time. His gaze traveled from Obi-Wan's boots to the top of his head, seeming to settle on Obi-Wan's snow-white hair. "You know, I hadn't realized it, but you really [iare[/i getting up there in years, aren't you? You're almost as old as Dooku was when we first fought."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, you didn't do so well then, either!"

"Very funny." Anakin hooked his weapon to his belt. "You know, one of these days I'm going to stop taking it easy on you during these little drills of ours."

Obi-Wan smiled and slapped Anakin hard on the back. "You've been saying that for a decade, Anakin. I'm done holding my breath."

Anakin laughed. "Fair enough." He turned and looked around the room warily. "Seriously, though. Did you not sense that?"

Obi-Wan drew his eyebrows together, suddenly grasping that Anakin had not been pretending. "I felt a surge of concern from you as you were getting up," he replied. "But that was about it. What did you see?"

"I…I don't know…it felt like—"

"Master Skywalker? Master Obi-Wan? Are you in here?"

Anakin and Obi-Wan glanced at each other and sighed.

"I don't suppose we could just hide ourselves in the Force and hope they go away, can we?" Anakin whispered.

"You're the head of the Jedi Order, Anakin. I'm sure _somebody_ would eventually miss you."

Anakin rubbed his chin. "Oh, I don't know. Padmé, maybe. I suppose Luke and Leia would eventually start to worry…."

"We're in here, Kilar!" Obi-Wan called out. He turned to Anakin. "It was nice while it lasted."

Anakin glanced around the dark chamber. "I suppose we won't be using this place anymore. No matter where we go to do this, we always manage to get found out."

The two men started out toward the exit. "Well, if you'd just stop telling Padmé where you're going, it'd probably be a better kept secret!"

"Don't you start on that again! She's my wife and she has every right to know where I am. If you'd ever had the good sense to settle down with that nice Corellian girl I introduced you to, you'd understand that."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I rather like my freedom, thank you."

A small human boy finally rounded the corner into the cave with a torch in his hand. He waved the flame on the end of the stick from one Jedi Master to the other, as if trying to confirm that they were actually the ones he was looking for. Seemingly satisfied, he sighed in obvious relief.

"Master Skywalker! Master Obi-Wan! Thank the Force!"

"Indeed, little one," Obi-Wan smiled. "What can we do for you?"

"Master Vos told me to find you! He said it was urgent. Something about a missing link in the Sith holocrons!"

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged another silent glance. Quinlan Vos recently had taken on the responsibility of researching the treasure trove of holocrons that had been discovered almost two decades prior while exploring the myriad secret passageways left by Palpatine. They had been left untouched for several years, as most Jedi had been unwilling to explore the data within.

Only Vos seemed comfortable with the idea of learning what knowledge the Sith had accumulated over the centuries. It had become somewhat of an obsession as he spent countless hours trying to coax information from the unique information vessels. Less than a week earlier he had discovered how to read them, and had been furiously documenting the information found there since. This was the first time Vos had come out of his self-imposed seclusion to talk to anyone about what he had found.

Anakin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, frowning as he seemed to sink into himself. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked directly at the boy, a look of apprehension etched into his face. "We'll be right there."

Kilar nodded and dashed out of sight.

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Anakin replied, the clear unease seeming to build by the moment. "But something's not right."

"What do you mean?"

Anakin pulled the right corner of lips inward as if trying to find the right words. "I don't know, exactly. What I sensed earlier, and then again just now when I tried to find Quinlan…"

"Go on."

"Well, for a brief moment…the Force felt…I don't know…cold."

* * *

"Let me _go_!!"

The three humans surrounding the pale-skinned Twi'lek dancer laughed.

"Oh, come on! You know you love it!" the tallest of them chuckled as he grabbed her around the waist from behind, pulling her to him roughly.

"Yeah! Why should Jabba have all the fun?" The stocky one grabbed her right wrist, pulling her hand free from her vain attempts to pry the first man free.

"I want some too!" the fat one screamed as he yanked her other wrist to him.

"Jabba will kill you for this!" Lyn Me yelled, frantically pulling against their vice-like grips. She searched the bar desperately, trying to make eye contact with somebody. "Please! _Somebody_, help me!"

No one in the tiny cantina budged or even looked up. The quiet conversations continued unabated. The background music still played incessantly.

The men laughed harder.

Tears welled in her eyes.

It was the first time that Jabba the Hutt had let Lyn leave the palace in nearly a decade. She had counted herself lucky and had been doing her level best not to give him a reason to revoke the privilege. But she just couldn't resist visiting the local hangout she had heard so much about. Being caught in the bar would have been enough to keep her confined for another decade with a chain attached to her collar. Getting accosted and raped by three humans would likely get her fed to Jabba's rancor.

She gritted her teeth and kicked out at the fat one. He easily scooted out of the way and grinned. Obviously, he was more agile than he looked.

"She's a feisty one, Harm!" the fat man laughed.

"Well, Jor, we'll just have to beat that out of her, won't we? Shinn! Grab her legs!" Harm, who was obviously the one who had his arms tight around her waist, had gone from playful to menacing. His voice was tight and full of malice.

The tears fell.

"Let her go."

The three men spun toward the quiet voice that had spoken.

A sudden flurry of bodies parted to reveal a lone dark-skinned human sitting quietly at the bar. He continued to face the barkeep, silently sipping a bluish liquid from a small glass. The bartender, a humanoid creature whose species the Twi'lek girl didn't recognize, clucked his beak-like mouth and turned away. The Bith Quartet immediately stopped playing, which cued the rest of the room to absolute silence.

"Please, sir," she cried. "Help m—"

Harm's fist silenced her and blood splattered onto Jor's tunic. "Shut up, witch!" He tossed her to the other two and faced the unmoving patron, his lips curling into a snarl. "Just who in the hell are _you_ supposed to be?"

Silence.

Jor and Shinn exchanged wary glances before Shinn pushed the girl completely into Jor's arms and pulled his blaster from its holster. "You heard the man, friend. What's your name and what do you want with her?"

He placed the drink quietly on the bar as he spoke. "Who I am, is irrelevant. What I want with her is simple. I want you to let her go."

Harm squared his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side, seeming to relish in the popping noise that accompanied the movement.

"And what if we don't?" Harm's voice had dropped to a much deeper, more menacing tone.

Lyn wasn't sure given that she could only see the back of the dark man's bald skull, but she could have sworn she saw him smile.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to ask you again," he replied, causing the threesome to laugh. "Less politely," he added.

Their chuckles wilted.

Jor spat and tossed Lyn to the floor. All three of them drew their blasters and leveled them at the man's back, fuel cells whining as three settings were raised to maximum power.

"You won't be asking anything, friend," Shinn spat.

The dark man spun in his chair. The movement was surprisingly quick, yet graceful. Stepping away from the stool, he stood up to his full, imposing height, only a few inches shorter than Harm, with his feet set slightly apart.

Looking directly into Shinn's surprised face, wrinkles formed at the corners of his mouth when he spoke through tight lips. "We are _not_ friends."

"Hey!" Jor yelled. "I know this guy!"

Harm screwed up his face as he seemed to consider it, keeping the barrel of the blaster pointed directly at the man. "Yeah…he _does_ look familiar!"

"He's that Jedi that tried to take over the Senate, remember?" Shinn offered.

"That's it," Harm replied, snapping the fingers on his free hand. "That's right. I remember now. Trial was all over the HoloNet! They ended up letting him go, right? Something about temporary insanity or something like that."

"He's a dangerous one, gents," Jor said with a cautious tone in his voice. "He's a Jedi."

"Ex-Jedi," Harm corrected, grinning widely.

"Yeah! Ex-Jedi," Shinn concurred, beginning to smile.

One corner of the dark man's mouth turned upwards slightly. It might have been a smile, had his eyes not darkened to give him such a predatory look. "And do you think that makes me less dangerous or more dangerous?"

There was no mistaking the clear swallow each man took in succession as the ex-Jedi's stare moved smoothly from one man to the next.

"Shoot him!" Harm yelled.

"_You_ shoot him!" Shinn snapped. "She ain't worth the trouble. I'm getting out of here." He spun and dashed for the door. Jor was close on his heels.

Harm continued to stare at the man, seeming to consider his odds of winning a fight with him. Then he spat on the ground and stormed out of the bar.

A moment later, the Bith Quartet began playing again and the conversations began anew, as if they never had stopped.

The man sighed and walked over to Lyn, extending his black-gloved hand to her. She took it, and he easily hoisted her to her feet. He seemed to have been waiting to see if she was all right, because as soon as she felt steady on her feet, the man turned away and went back to the bar.

She slid onto the chair next to him.

"Thank you," she ventured.

"No problem," the man replied, downing the rest of his drink. "I suggest you leave soon. They'll probably be back and I won't be doing that again."

"Why did you in the first place?"

"Felt like the thing to do at the time. Now, I'm not so sure."

"I'm Lyn."

"I don't care." He tossed a coin on the bar and stood. He was turning to walk away when Lyn grabbed his elbow.

"You just saved my skin. Can I at least have your name?"

His eyes widened and then he frowned, as if confused by the question. At length, he pulled his elbow free. "Call me Mace. See you around Lyn."

Without another word, he stalked away.

"Nice to meet you, Mace," Lyn whispered to herself.

* * *

Anakin clasped his hands in front of him and leaned against Quinlan's workbench. He had been standing there somewhat impatiently for several minutes and the dark-haired Kiffar Jedi had yet to look up from the small crimson pyramid he was studying.

Anakin blew out an exasperated breath. "Vos, you sent for me?"

Quinlan kept his bloodshot eyes fixed on the device. "Yes," he said simply.

Anakin frowned. "Because…?"

Vos continued to probe the pyramid. He flipped a stray lock of his thick hair out of his face and activated a panel on the side that faced Anakin. The holocron vibrated noiselessly for several seconds and then Anakin felt a sudden surge in the Force.

His legs gave way and he had to grasp the desk to steady himself.

"Don't fight it," Quinlan advised.

A flood of images bombarded Anakin's mind. "What…?"

"Focus, Skywalker!" Quinlan snapped, as if chastising a recalcitrant padawan. "Filter through the images and select the one you are looking for."

Anakin turned and glared at Vos as he raised his mental shields to block the barrage. "It would help if you told me what I was looking for, _Master_!"

The unspoken rebuke seemed to have the desired effect. Quinlan averted his eyes before reaching up to deactivate the holocron. The flood of images halted instantly.

"Sorry."

Anakin gripped the sides of the table and spoke through gritted teeth. "Care to explain?"

Vos leaned backward in his chair, extending his arms above his head in a huge stretch, audibly crackling every one of the vertebrae in his back. A moment later, he opened his mouth in massive yawn which he did nothing to stifle. When he finally closed his mouth, he let out a low grumbling moan.

Anakin relaxed his face and straightened.

"The holocron can only be used by a Force-sensitive," Quinlan announced at last in a lecturing tone. He glanced up at Anakin's scowling face, pulled his lips into a thin line, and then smiled. "Right. You already knew that." Sighing, he leaned forward and continued. "What you just experienced is perfectly normal, but avoidable. I should have taught you how to access the Gatekeeper but I wasn't thinking. Tired, I suppose."

"Gatekeeper?" Anakin's scowl deepened.

"Yes. Each holocron has a Gatekeeper—a guide to help you get the answers you're looking for. The Gatekeepers seem to be the Sith Lord that recorded the holocron." Vos picked up one the holocron and turned it over in his hand absently before returning it to the table. "Largely, the holocrons are personal logs along with recordings of Sith techniques of all sorts. I also noticed several designs for ships and battle stations but I haven't had a chance to sort through them all yet."

Placing his flesh hand on his chin, Anakin grew pensive. "These 'Gatekeepers', they are holographic manifestations of the Sith Lords?"

"All the ones I've seen so far, yes." Quinlan stood and stretched again. "I've catalogued them all in chronological order so I can study them. Each one spans about twenty-five to thirty years or so. It seems that's about as long as Sith Masters tend to last before their apprentices kill them."

Anakin nodded. "That makes sense. We recovered thirty-three and I think they started with Darth Bane, right?"

"I didn't think you actually read my reports," Quinlan replied flatly as he walked across the tiled floor and got a drink of water. He drank for several long moments before replacing the metal cup. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "I guess the Head of the Council _can_ find time for the little things, eh?"

Anakin bit back the frustration that churned in his gut. "So what is the news, Vos? What was so important that I could not read it in a report?"

Quinlan leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "We have thirty-three, but we should have thirty-four."

Anakin drew his eyebrows together. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Vos replied as he pushed off the wall. He pulled his feet together and, keeping his legs straight, stretched down to hug his head to his knees. At length, he straightened and looked at Anakin, his dark eyes red and blotchy. "I [ithought[/i one might be missing but had to wait until I was done cataloging to be sure."

Sitting on the table, Anakin contemplated the information. "Any idea where it might be or what this might mean?"

"_Where_ it might be is anywhere, if it even exists," Quinlan answered. "_What_ it might mean is interesting. The gap was noted by only two Sith Lords, but both seemed not to care, claiming that the Sith responsible for the recording was the weakest Sith in their history and was undeserving of ever having been selected for training. Apparently, he had someone else disable his master before he went in for the kill."

"Did they knew who this Sith was?"

"Looks like they got their information from someplace other than their own archives and it wasn't complete."

"Oh?"

"I'm guessing on that one, but they never mentioned his name. I figure that's because they didn't know it." Quinlan stretched again and then walked back toward the table on which Anakin sat.

Anakin stood and blocked Vos' path. "That's enough for now. You're tired. Go get some rest."

Vos' face instantly contorted into a snarl. Fiery heat flared from his core in the Force. "You can't do that!!" he growled. "I'm not done yet."

Anakin raised his right eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "I can, and you are."

Vos glared.

Anakin narrowed his eyes.

Vos blinked. Locks swaying about his neck as he shook his head, he turned around and began to walk out of the room. "You're probably right. I need some rest. I'll get back to work in the morning."

"No," Anakin responded firmly. "I want you to take a week off this project. Come back and seek the Council's permission when you think you are ready."

Quinlan stopped at the door and placed a hand on the doorframe. "I'm sorry, all right? I lost my head for a minute. Don't take me off this. No one knows these holocrons like I do."

"We didn't have them for a thousand years, Quinlan. We can do without their knowledge for a week." Anakin watched Vos' fingers flex against the wood. "My decision is final. Get some rest."

The Jedi Master dropped his head for a moment, and then walked away.

Anakin turned and picked up the small device. The ambient light seemed to disappear into its surfaces rather than reflect off them. He placed it flat in his palm and raised it to eye-level, unsure of what he expected to see.

It seemed like nothing more than a simple pyramid with ornate red designs carved into the black metal surface. He contemplated trying to probe it with the Force for several long moments.

Finally, he walked over to an open drawer, placed the holocron neatly inside, and closed it.

"It can wait," he whispered, and left.


	3. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 2, Part I

**Chapter 2**

**Legacy, Part I**

"…_our responsibility to the Jedi extends for hundreds of years, Senators! We cannot abandon them now!"_

The distortion of the audio from the weak HoloNet connection did nothing to take the sting out of the screams of protest that erupted and reverberated throughout the large hangar. Luke bit the inside corner of his mouth and sighed. At least there were more sounds of applause than those of protest.

"_If nothing else, we owe it to ourselves to provide them with the resources to continue to protect the Republic as they always ha—."_

"_And give them the opportunity to attack us again? Never!" _

Luke cringed at the interruption from the Viceroy of Obaria. He took his eyes off the HoloNet transmission, contemplating getting back to work on his starfighter that beckoned to him from a few meters away.

"_The Senator is out of order!"_ The tone in Chancellor E'Room's voice both quieted the senators and drew Luke's attention back to the blue-tinged image. _"You will wait until the chair recognizes you."_

"_My most abject apologies, Chancellor,"_ was the terse reply, the Viceroy's voice betraying no sign of regret.

"I thought I might find you here!"

Stumbling awkwardly as he punched the holotransceiver to shut down the feed, Luke quickly got to his feet and spun in the direction of the voice.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's just you."

The lithe girl leaning casually against the durasteel frame of the hangar entrance as if she were molded to it raised an eyebrow. Luke fought the temptation to stare at her smooth lavender face. Looking away, his eyes focused, almost of their own volition, on the soft contours of her hips that swayed just so as she seemed to float toward him.

"I guess that means you can relax, then, right?" Her lips curved upward and her perfect white teeth glistened in the ambient light.

Luke swallowed hard. "Umm…Shinah…" He stepped backwards and collided with the holotransceiver. "So…umm…you were looking for me?"

When did she get so close?

"What's the matter, sand kitten?" Shinah whispered teasingly. She reached out and put her index finger on his chest, then walked her hand with her fingers slowly up to his face, finally resting the tip of her hand against his chin. "I don't make you uncomfortable, do I?"

Her eyes were so green!

Spinning away, Luke shuffled backwards and then did his best to look casual as he walked over to his personal Jedi starfighter, picking up an immobilizer as he went. "No…" he winced at the crack in his voice. Puberty had been long past. Why did his voice always make that ridiculous sound around Shinah? He cleared his throat and swallowed. "Not at all. You just surprised me, that's all."

"Right," she grinned, leaning to her right and placing a hand on her hip. She looked around the bay. "Since when do you watch RNet anyway? I thought that was Leia's obsession."

Luke kept his focus on a loose bolt, struggling to get the immobilizer to connect to it. "It's the best place to get a sense for what people think about us, I guess." He finally realized that he wanted a spanner, not an immobilizer. He threw it in disgust and it bounced off the side of the ship, leaving a ten-centimeter scratch along the side. He grunted and slapped the wing with the palm of his hand. "Stupid!"

Shinah chuckled. She picked up a spanner and walked over to Luke, handing him the tool as she placed her free hand gently on the small of his back. He turned and found himself suddenly frozen in place. She smelled so good! Shinah slipped her arm around his waist and used her other hand to grip his as the spanner clanked on along the wing.

"Aren't there more interesting things we could be doing, other than talking about silly politics?" she breathed.

"I'm…umm…I…"

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

"Shinah..."

"Luke…"

"What are you two doing?"

Their heads whirled about.

Pushing Shinah away by the shoulders, Luke stepped forward and ran a hand though his mop of brown hair.

"Leia! Hi. How are you?" He winced and kicked himself._ "How are you?" Pathetic!_

"Not as well as you, it seems," Leia replied, crossing her arms. She glanced over at Shinah, who now leaned back against the starfighter with her own arms crossed, grinning. "Hello, Shinah," Leia greeted coolly. "Shouldn't you be in training with Master Secura?"

"No…don't think so," Shinah laughed.

Leia glared.

Abruptly, a scowl appeared on Shinah's face. "Look, you're not his mother, Leia! We've been together a month now and he still hasn't even kissed me! I bet that's your doing, isn't it?"

"We don't discuss you," Leia replied dryly. "My brother can…frolic…with whoever he likes. Perhaps he just doesn't like purple Twi'lek girls and doesn't want to hurt your feelings."

Shinah's lekku twitched in irritation and she stalked forward.

Leia spread her legs slightly and dropped her arms to her sides.

Luke grabbed Shinah about the waist and pulled her away. "That's enough!" he snapped. "There'll be no talking about me like I'm not standing right here." He focused on Shinah. "All right?"

Shinah glared at Leia over his shoulder. Luke grabbed the sides of her face and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was awkward, but Shinah melted into it nonetheless. Ignoring the annoyed hiss coming from Leia behind him, Luke let the kiss linger a bit longer. When he heard Leia's loud sigh, he smiled inwardly and pulled away.

Shinah leaned backward with her eyes closed, an odd smile on her face. Luke decided it best to let it go and turned to Leia.

"I'm assuming you came looking for me for a reason?"

Leia did nothing to hide the look of disgust on her face as she stared at Shinah who grinned devilishly back at her. Luke shook his head. At length, Leia looked back to Luke and frowned. "Yes. Mother wants to see us—I don't know why, so don't ask."

Luke frowned. Their mother almost never sent for them. She usually left them to their own devices, seemingly convinced that their father had them on a tight enough leash as it was. The few times that Luke and Leia had been summoned by Padmé, it almost always had something to do with them being forced to go some dinner or another.

"Well, I guess we better get going." He started toward the door.

"What about your girlfriend over there?"

Luke looked at Shinah and smiled, waving. Shinah fixed her eyes on Leia as she blew Luke a kiss.

"She's fine. Let's go."

They turned and walked out the door. "What do you see in her anyway?"

Luke's eyes widened and he didn't hide the surprise from his voice. "Have you _seen_ her?"

* * *

The stench of eopie dung on the dirt streets of Mos Eisley had long bothered Mace. As hard he tried to ignore the foul smell, he found it near impossible not to notice its similarity to the stench of a tauntaun's intestines. The memory of once having had to eat his tauntaun just to stay alive on Hoth caused his stomach to lurch. Avoiding the brown pile in his path that was the most current source of the smell, Mace turned away and headed down the dark alleyway.

Searching for the entrance to the establishment the barkeep had informed him about, but seeing nothing but brown tarp-covered abandoned stalls that had clearly stopped selling wares many months before, Mace suddenly realized that he was very much alone. He frowned. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to continue down the silent street while keeping an eye on the roofs above.

They didn't wait long.

He didn't need the Force to tell him that he was surrounded. The buffoons breathed so loudly, he could hear them from two streets away. Mace stopped, closed his eyes and sighed. Deciding that it was best to get a sense of how many he was dealing with, he took a slow, deep breath. The Force flowed into him in a steady stream. He focused on trying not to bend it to his will. It had been so constant a struggle for him that he was beginning to believe he would never rid himself of the urge.

Within moments, the unlit makeshift arena blossomed into clarity as the Force divulged the exact locations of his would-be attackers. Three of them he recognized from the cantina. The other two were new. The two new ones were larger, and he immediately sensed that they were the most dangerous of the group. It was also abundantly clear that they were the hired help.

Mace shook his head and shrugged.

The one the others had called Harm stepped out from behind one of the stalls with a smug look on his face.

Mace raised an eyebrow and inclined his head.

"Didn't think we were done with you, did you?" Harm grinned. He wore the confidence of superior numbers like a brand new suit.

"I admit, I had hoped you would have the good sense to walk away with your pride and your body parts intact."

Two separate chuckles erupted from behind him—the hired muscle.

Harm's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept smiling. "Who knew ex-Jedi could be so funny, eh?"

The ones behind Mace slipped out of their hiding places and moved cautiously toward him.

"I don't suppose there's any way I'm going to convince you boys that this is a bad idea, is there?" Mace pushed his cowl back and dropped both hands to his sides.

"Hmm…let me think about that one," Harm answered, scraping a finger on his stubbled chin as if he were seriously thinking about it. Then he lowered his hand and crossed his arms, his barely lit face taking on a vicious appearance. "No."

"Good."

Harm's face barely registered surprise before Mace's boot was planted squarely in it, crushing his nose as blood splattered everywhere.

Mace bounced backward, avoiding the blaster bolts that suddenly sprang from the hiding place of Jor and Shinn, who had stupidly decided to crouch in the same location. When Mace landed in front of them, their combined shock and fear wafted off them like Kalorian perfume.

"Oh, sh—"

Mace's fist crashed hard into Jor's face and he relished the sensation of the man's front teeth coming loose in his mouth. Before Shinn had finished raising his blaster, Mace kicked hard into the man's protruding gut. When the man crumpled under the blow, Mace drove his knee hard into his exposed chin before twisting away to face the other two, neither of whom had moved from his spot.

The previously quiet alleyway suddenly erupted in a series of groans that Mace could just hear above the pounding of his pulse in his ear.

Mace steadied his breathing and glared at his remaining opponents.

One of them brought his blaster up to waist level.

Mace shook his head as he kept his eyes firmly on his would-be assailants'.

"Yuh don' scare me!" The blaster in the brute's hands shook noticeably.

"Fair enough." Mace pulled the corners of his mouth downward as he raised his right hand open palmed and then closed his fist dramatically.

Both blasters suddenly crumpled in their owner's hands and then thumped to the ground.

"I don't know how much you boys know about fuel cells…" Mace began.

The effect was immediate. Likely deciding that whatever they had been paid was not enough, both thugs turned and ran.

Reaching into the Force, Mace raised both weapons high into the air where the subsequent explosion did nothing more than light the prone figures who rolled about on the ground.

Mace stalked over to Harm, grabbed him by the lapels and hoisted him up. Pushing Harm against the wall with his one hand, he gestured with the other to gather up the remaining blasters and flip them up onto the surrounding roofs.

"Since you were kind enough to stop by, Harm," Mace smiled in a conversational tone, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me find someone."


	4. Edge of the Darknesss, Ch 2, Part II

**Chapter 2**

**Legacy, Part II**

"Leia, can we please change the subject?"

Leia stopped in her tracks and glared at her brother. Luke kept up his quick pace for a few moments more before he pulled up and turned around to look back. He drew a deep breath, clasped his hands in front of him and then leaned back on the largest boulder in the rock garden.

Leia bit back a surge of frustration as she recognized the posture he had adopted. She had seen him take on that very appearance on countless occasions with their mother and father. The lowered head; the slightly hunched shoulders to give the appearance of contrition; the clasped hands resting on his lap; and the blasted serene look on his face that he picked up early on from Uncle Obi. He was prepared for a lecture. Whatever she said from that point on would be met with polite nods and affirmations of the logic of her arguments. He would smile sheepishly when appropriate, and only occasionally interject an opposing viewpoint just to keep up the appearance that he was actually listening.

Luke had settled into his lecturing position.

Letting out an exasperated breath, Leia folded her arms in front of her and waited. Her brother seemed to take stock of her stance for a long moment before he tilted his lowered head ever so slightly, raised his right eyebrow, and smiled.

_Blast!_ she raged inwardly. _He knows we can't stand out here forever. He might not care that Manu is waiting for us but he knows that I do._

Never one to back down completely, even when she knew she was beaten, Leia uncrossed her arms, walked over to Luke, and leaned against the boulder beside him. The look of confusion her new approach plastered onto Luke's face was enough for her.

"Luke," she began. "I know she's beautiful. I'm not disputing that. But think about how it looks…"

"I don't _care_ how it looks, Leia! Don't you get that?"

"Well you should!" Leia frowned as Luke's face turned impassive again. She softened her tone. "Teru has worked hard to convince the Order that attachments do not necessarily spell doom for a Jedi. Even after all this time, there are many who disagree with him and voice their opinions openly. You have to realize that these…dalliances of yours only serve to undermine his position."

"I don't see how that's my problem." Luke twisted around and stared directly at her, a flare of anger in his eyes. "Look, _Father_ is quite capable of handling any situation, including the grumbling of a few Jedi Masters. Who I choose to spend time with has nothing to do with anything."

"Luke! You're his son! How we behave has everything to do with everything!"

"The fact that I am his son is just…" Luke stood up and started toward the main temple where the conference rooms were.

Leia grabbed at his elbow but he shrugged her off and kept walking.

"Is just what, Luke?" Leia shouted at his back. He didn't stop. Before she'd realized what she was doing, Leia hurled a small stone at Luke's back.

His response was swift, the hum of his emerald blade piercing the air as it cut cleanly through the rock. His eyes were fixed on hers, no hint of amusement behind them.

Leia drew a deep breath. "Is just what?"

Luke held her stare for a long moment before he deactivated his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. Bending down he picked up one half of the dismembered stone and tossed it gently in his hand.

"Nice throw," he remarked.

"Is just what, Luke?"

Luke frowned. "An unfortunate accident of birth."

Leia's mouth fell open. She closed it again, unsure of what to say.

"Can we go now? Manu's waiting."

* * *

Obi-Wan stared at the mass of flimsiplast on his desk and sighed. How he had managed to let Anakin con him into taking charge of the administrative duties of the Order was beyond comprehension. Absentmindedly, he pushed at one of the requisition forms with his index finger and then quickly pulled his hand back.

"They don't bite, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan looked up at Balin Kerr, whose elongated and painfully thin bald head as well as his pasty-white skin characteristic of his Muun ancestry was never as off-putting to Obi-Wan as the nasal quality that came with every word he uttered. Obi-Wan did his best to remind himself that he had hired Balin precisely because he was inordinately skilled at handling money and at accounting for every credit that the Order spent. He tried to assure himself that their near-daily meetings were absolutely necessary and that Balin was merely doing what he had been hired to do.

"Of course I know that!" Obi-Wan snapped. Immediately he winced. So much for Jedi calm. Somehow, discussing finance issues brought out the worst in him. Balin to his credit, didn't even blink, having suffered much harsher pronouncements from Obi-Wan over the two years he had worked at Yavin IV.

"Of course, Master Kenobi," Balin replied. "My apologies. I should not have made light of your discomfort." He leaned forward and reached across the desk. In seconds he had scooped the entire mess of flimsiplast up in his long fingers and arranged them into a three neat piles in front of Obi-Wan. "The requisition forms are entirely in order, Sir. They only require your approval or disapproval." He pointed to the largest heap. "These requisitions are for non-essentials and I recommend that you disapprove them all. They range in cost, of course, but none are necessary."

Obi-Wan glanced at the one on top and saw that it was for fuel cells for training lightsabers. His eyes widened as he picked it up.

"These are hardly 'non-essential' Kerr!" Obi-wan thrust it at the Muun. "How do you suppose we will train our newest Jedi without lightsabers?"

Balin blinked, apparently momentarily taken aback by Obi-Wan's questioning of his normally flawless analysis. "Well, I would suppose you could improvise. Certainly, regular lightsabers would be in order. I understand those fuel cells have a much longer lifespan. Beyond that, there is an inordinate number of trees here from which wooden lightsabers could be made…"

"Wooden lightsabers?"

"I assure you, other cultures use them quite successfully in training their younglings, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan sighed and fell back in his chair.

"I needn't remind you, Master Kenobi, that the Order's coffers have limits. What we bring in from gifts is vastly outstretched by what we spend on missions and training. If only you would consider assessing a fee—"

"Enough! There will be no more talk of fees for services rendered!" Obi-Wan stood and glared at Balin.

Balin sat back down. "Yes, Master Kenobi. Of course. My apologies. The other two stacks are for routine and special requests. I recommend approval for those. Of course, they are there for your perusal and you are free to rearrange their precedence as you and the Council deem fit. I only ask that you recognize the impact of each approval on this year's budget."

Obi-Wan plopped back into his chair and let out a long, exasperated breath. "Of course, Balin. And I'm sorry. You're only doing your job."

"No apologies are necessary, Sir. I can only advise."

"Thank you. I'll look over these immediately and have them back to you in this afternoon."

"Actually, Sir, I recommend you wait until after your meeting with Master and Mistress Skywalker. They are expecting you within the hour."

Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer and sighed. "Yes, of course." He stood and headed toward the door. When it did not open immediately, Obi-Wan glanced back at Balin.

"The door mechanism is on your right, Master Kenobi. Repairs to your door sensor were placed in the 'non-essentials' list."

"Of course." Obi-Wan punched the door access button a little harder than he needed to and stalked out the room.

* * *

Anakin walked into conference room at nearly the exact moment that Obi-Wan entered through the other doorway several meters directly across from him. Glancing about the large chamber wherein they normally held receptions for senators and the occasional visit from the Supreme Chancellor, Anakin noted with some consternation that the twins had not yet arrived.

Obi-Wan obviously noticed the same thing as he looked up at Anakin with questioning eyes. Shrugging, Anakin turned his attention to the back of Padmé's head, her hair pinned into an ornate bun that he was sure would take more time than it was worth to unravel later. She was in intense discussions with an elderly human that Anakin didn't recognize who sat beside a stunning young girl apparently no older than Leia.

When none of the participants responded to his and Obi-Wan's arrival, Anakin took in the rest of the room. It occurred to him that he never really paid close attention to the work Padmé had put into the design of the chamber.

Sitting in the very center of the room was the long wooden table at which Padmé and her guests sat. Although there were only eight evenly spaced chairs about the table, Anakin knew that it comfortably seated sixteen humans, having sat across from Obi-Wan during a dinner that Padmé had arranged with donors to the Jedi Order. He remembered trying his best not to fidget with the ridiculous robes Padmé had insisted he wear that evening as one of the donors droned on about how important it was to him that the Order had agreed to name one of the student training halls after his family—something Anakin had only learned about that night. He recalled staring out the three transparisteel windows on both sides of the room periodically, paying only the minimal attention required to the conversations going on to indicate that he was actually listening.

Finally, he looked over to his right at the small service entry on his side of the room and smiled to himself. It was through that very passage that he and Obi-Wan had made their escape and downed a flask of Corellian brandy by the lake. Of course, when Padmé had discovered their absence, she covered for them beautifully, consummate politician that she was. Then again, he would have preferred that she had sent out a droid army after them rather than blast them as she had later on that evening when their guests had departed.

Suddenly Anakin realized that Padmé was looking at him. As was Obi-Wan and the two visitors sitting at the table.

"Anakin, did you hear me?" Padmé asked.

He hadn't heard her, of course, and he knew that this was a question that there was no right answer for. He took a deep breath.

At that instant, Luke walked in through the door Obi-Wan had come in. He was no more than a meter in the room when he came to a dead stop, his eyes transfixed on the girl sitting at the table. Leia obviously had been moving at a quicker pace, likely trying to catch up with her brother, and clearly didn't realize that Luke had stopped. She barely avoided crashing into him as she slid into the room.

Always the one to break an awkward silence, Leia turned to Padmé. "I'm sorry we're late, Mother. I had to…retrieve Luke."

Leia looked up at Luke whose eyes remained fixed on the girl at the table. Anakin slowly glanced over at her and noticed that she seemed to be growing uncomfortable under Luke's unabashed stare. She reached up and pushed a lock of her fiery hair behind her air. At length, she turned her lifted her green eyes and stared squarely back at Luke and tilted her head. She looked as if she was about to say something when Leia jabbed Luke in his side with her elbow.

"Hey!" Luke squealed as he turned on Leia.

Ignoring him, Leia turned her attention to their mother. "You wanted to see us, Mother?"

Padmé stood. "Yes." She smiled and nodded to her guests who also stood. "Luke, Leia, Obi-Wan…Anakin..." She turned and looked at Anakin, inclining her head almost imperceptibly but enough for Anakin to realize he was on the wrong side of the room. Anakin slid behind her and joined the others.

"…this is Finis Valorum and his aide, Mara Jade."


	5. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 3, Part I

**Chapter 3**

**Quests, Part I**

"How's your nose?"

Harm glared at the man who had suddenly become a painful part of his life, biting back the urge to punch him in the face. Given that Jor and Shinn seemed to have abandoned him, Harm was slowly coming to the unpleasant realization that he was out of bounty hunters and therefore, a source of income. While that was hardly a new situation for him, he'd never found himself in the company of so perfect a replacement so quickly. No use getting pummeled again in the recruitment process.

Harm realized that the man was still staring at him impassively. "Do you really care?"

The man looked away. "No." He stared at the wooden door at which they had been standing for the past hour. "How long?"

"They don't open that door for us riffraff before the first moonrise. Wouldn't be the Moonrise Club if they did, would it?" The Korun let out a breath. Harm chuckled. "I thought you Jedi were supposed to be patient."

"The fact that I repaired your nose does not preclude me breaking it again."

Harm raised his hands in a show of peace. "Relax. No need for that. I was just making conversation."

The ex-Jedi pulled his cowl up and over his head and stared straight ahead. When it became abundantly clear that his companion was not about to say anything new, Harm leaned his back against the stone wall and slipped to the ground. Pulling his quarter-long and his sharpening stone from his boot, he began running the coarse block against the glistening metal.

The sound of sand pelting the stone domiciles and stores from occasional gusts of wind accompanied by the persistent grating from Harm's ministrations on his quarter-long were all that interrupted the deepening silence.

Not exactly one who enjoyed quiet moments, Harm decided to try again. "So…what do I call you, anyway, ex-Jedi? You prefer Mace or Wingu?"

Harm thought he caught a flash of irritation beneath the dark man's cowl. The ex-Jedi said nothing for several moments, and then turned his head slightly. "Mace is fine." Then his eyes widened perceptibly and took on a dangerous tint. "And it's Win_du_."

Harm's stomach tightened, though he wasn't sure why. Windu was the first man that had managed to make Harm cringe with a glare. He was beginning to like him. Sliding his blade neatly back into place along his right boot and slipping the sharpening stone next to it, he stood, brushed the grit from his trousers, and stretched out his hand.

"I'm Harm," he said firmly.

Windu stared at the outstretched hand. After what seemed like an eternity, he redirected his attention to the wooden door. "I know," he answered at last.

Harm dropped his hand and shrugged. "Look, I know we started out on the wrong road, Windu. Doesn't mean we can't fix—"

Windu spun in a blur. Harm blinked in surprise as the ex-Jedi was suddenly standing next to him, palm up in a silencing gesture, and peering into the darkness. Never one to dismiss a warning, Harm pulled both his blasters from their holsters on his hips, pointing one in the direction Windu was staring and the other down the other end of the street.

"What's going on?" Harm whispered.

Windu narrowed his eyes but kept his focus in the same general direction. "We are not alone." Harm noted that Windu was not whispering. Obviously the man was not afraid of being discovered. Windu glanced at his blasters and frowned. "Put those away before you hurt yourself."

Harm raised both his eyebrows but bit his tongue. He shoved the blaster in his right hand back into its holster but kept the other pointing down the street in the direction that they were now both staring.

Windu shook his head.

At the edge of the darkness that was created by the soft glow from the light above the Moonrise Club's door, a small figure emerged. No more than a meter in height, the diminutive creature sauntered into view, whistling softly. When it spotted the two men staring at it, the creature froze in place and flung its three-fingered hand in front of its eyes.

"Away put your weapon! I mean you no harm!" it screamed.

For the first time since Harm had met Windu, he saw the man's eyes widen in obvious surprise. His mouth fell open but nothing came out. Harm frowned and leveled the weapon at the creature.

"Who are you?" Harm growled as he slipped in front of Windu.

"Simple, I am," the creature cried, peering between the slits of his splayed stubby fingers. "No threat to you!"

Harm glanced back at Windu who still stood in stunned silence. Lifting the nose of his blaster up and away from the tiny creature, Harm leaned back and whispered to Mace. "You all right, big man? He's a little guy. No problem."

Mace continued to stare ahead.

"Yes! Yes! 'Little guy', I am!" The small creature raised both his hands in a clear sign of surrender.

"I guess those big ears of yours aren't just for decoration then, huh?" Harm said through tight lips.

"Why stand out here this late, hmmm?"

"We're looking for someone." Harm answered.

"Found someone, you have, no?"

Harm chuckled and put his blaster away. "Yeah…I suppose I have. I'm Harm." He crouched down and extended his hand. "What's your name?"

"Yoda…" Windu whispered.

The creature's ears shot up and his large green eyes widened. "_You_ know Yoda?"

Windu blinked. In an instant, his normal impassive demeanor returned and he placed his hands behind his back. "Yes, I knew him."

The creature's ears drooped. "Then…true, the rumors are." He looked away and his voice grew soft. "Gone, he is."

"Yes," Windu answered tightly. He seemed as if he wanted to say something more but instead lowered his cowl. "I take it that you're Broga."

Harm's eyes went wide. "_This_ is the guy you're looking for? No way! Broga's an information dealer. Big time guy. Lots of security. He's not some little…whatever-this-guy-is wandering around in the dark by himself."

Windu stepped forward. "Appearances can be deceiving." He walked over to the creature and stopped about a meter away.

The creature turned to face Windu, his eyes sad and his ears low. "Yes…Broga, I am. Saw the reports, I did, that murdered by the Sith, Yoda was. Believed it, I did not. But sense, I do, that you have first-hand knowledge of this."

Windu nodded.

Harm stared back and forth between the tall dark-skinned human and the equally diminutive green creature. He suddenly felt as if he was the only one standing there in confusion. "Hey! What's going on here?"

"Shut up, Harm." Windu snapped. He kept his eyes on the creature for a long moment. "I didn't realize you and Yoda were friends."

The creature looked up and smiled weakly. "Met him only briefly, I did," he answered. "Owe him much, I do. Without him, be here, I would not."

"I see." Windu crouched down beside the creature and placed a hand on its shoulder in what, if Harm didn't know any better, seemed like a compassionate gesture. "He was a great Jedi," Windu whispered.

The creature nodded. "How help you, can I?"

"I'm looking for a missing device."

* * *

Quinlan sat and glared around his room. What had awakened him? He swung his legs off the bed and placed his feet flat on the relatively cool duracrete floor. Glancing around his stark room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The door to the 'fresher was open from the night before and the light spilling into his room was the only source of illumination.

Pulling his lightsaber from beneath his pillow absentmindedly, he frowned and stood. He surveyed the room as he walked over to the ginnstone basin and poured himself a drink of water, trying to clear his mind.

The door chimed softly.

_That_ was it. Someone was at the door. Moving to the wooden peg that held his robes, he pulled them down and dressed as he stretched out with the Force.

Aayla.

"It's open," he called out as he hooked his lightsaber to his belt and walked into the 'fresher.

He heard the door open and sensed Aayla walk in noiselessly. He inhaled her presence, and smiled. As he washed his face in the sink, he raised his voice so she could here him. "I suppose you're here to make sure I'm still alive."

When Aayla didn't respond right away, Quinlan frowned. She was normally the talkative one. Grabbing a nearby towel, he dried his face and walked out into the room.

She stood in the center of the room as beautiful as she always had been, her cerulean lekku draped neatly down her back. It was hard not to stare at her and wonder how he had managed to get so lucky. Aayla appeared as impassive as any Jedi but Quinlan recognized how tightly her lips were drawn. It was subtle, of course, and would probably have gone unnoticed by most. Then again, Quinlan was not most people.

He sighed and sat on the bed. "What did Korto do now?"

Aayla raised her right eyebrow. "What makes you say he did anything?"

"Because you've got that 'please talk to your son' look on your face."

Aayla watched Vos for several moments, clearly suppressing the smile that was struggling to play across her lips. Finally, she raised one corner of her mouth as she glided over and sat next to him. Quinlan, once again, found himself distracted by her gracefulness.

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he let his eyes traverse her body. "I don't suppose we can skip the conversation and go right to ravaging each other, can we?"

The gentle chuckle that erupted from Aayla was all the encouragement Quinlan wanted as reached out and grasped her neck and pulled it to his hungry mouth. As he began to nip and suck on her soft skin, she moaned. Quinlan smiled inwardly and began to move his mouth up to her sensitive earlobes.

Suddenly seeming to remember herself, Aayla pushed him away and stood. "Oh, no you don't!" she intoned, her heavy breathing betraying how effective his attempted seduction had been despite her protestations. "We have to talk."

Making a show of his disappointment outwardly, but enjoying the situation completely, Quinlan slid back farther on their bed and leaned his back against the wall. Placing both hands behind his head and bending his left leg at the knee, he took on as attentive a look as he could muster.

"Ok, Aayla," he smiled. "First we talk, then we ravage, deal?"

"De—" Aayla frowned. "Stop, Quin. This is serious."

"Right. Serious." He sat up and rubbed is hands along his chin in mockery of Obi-Wan's now infamous thoughtful pose. "Jedi business."

Aayla rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's Korto…"

"I think we already established that, love. What about him? Let me guess, he took a few younglings into the forest and left them for dead?"

"No…"

"Broke into the stores and stole some valuables for sale to the Black Sun organization?"

"Quin…"

"Not that, huh? Hmm…maybe he's started a glitterstim trade…"

"Would you stop?" Aayla spoke through gritted teeth.

"No on the glitterstim? Kragg! I was sure that was it." Quinlan's eyes widened. "Wait! He didn't get that Falleen girl pregnant, did he? I admit she was quite a looker, but he's a little young for that!"

"Quinlan Vos!" Aayla's tone made it clear he had gone to that particular well one too many times.

"Sure you don't want to skip the talking?" he grinned.

"You are impossible, you know that?"

"Impossible, nothing is, with the Force, Master Secura," Quinlan answered in his best impersonation of Yoda.

Finally, Aayla laughed softly. She reached out and pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and then sat in front of Vos. She leveled her gaze on his and her face grew deadly serious. "Korto is building a second lightsaber."

Quinlan chuckled. "That's it? He's building a second lightsaber? Tell me you're not serious!"

"Quin, aren't you a bit concerned about why?"

"Obviously because he's tired of Skywalker's kids beating the snot out of him in training sessions. He wants an edge."

"And that doesn't concern you?"

"Why should it?" Quinlan scooted to the edge of the bed and looked directly at Aayla. "The boy is the third best lightsaber duelist in his class. Third. He's amazing. He's orders of magnitude better than anyone else in their group. Problem is, he's in the same group as Luke and Leia Skywalker and that makes him consistently number three. You have no idea how that's got to gnaw at Korto."

"You're right, Quinlan, I have no idea," Aayla sighed. "That's really the problem. He shouldn't _care_ who's best or where he ranks. Jedi serve within their abilities, Quin. You _know_ this! His competitiveness is a path to the—"

"Don't you dare!" Quinlan growled and shot up off the bed. A burgeoning fire smoldered in his gut. "Deception leads to the dark side! Pretending to be something you're not leads to the dark side! Competitiveness and drive are not evil!"

"Quin…I'm sorry…I know this is hard to hear but…I sense darkness in Korto."

"Any more than you sense in _me_?" Quinlan stalked over to her and grabbed her wrist.

In a flash, Quinlan found himself hurtling over her shoulder and crashing hard against the duracrete with a painful grunt. It knocked the wind out of him. He started to get up when Aayla's foot on his chest pushed him back down and her blue-white blade hummed just above his nose.

"I love you, Quinlan," she said calmly. "But make no mistake; I will not have you touch me in anger."

Quinlan dropped his head back against the floor and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he called on the Force and a cool breeze of calm swept through him and quenched the sudden fire that had erupted in him. He resolved to meditate on why he had gotten so angry later.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

The sound of the blade deactivating and the release of pressure on his chest told Quinlan that she sensed that he had regained his composure. He sat up.

"You should talk to him, Quin," Aayla announced as she sat down again and crossed her legs as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. "You've spent more time with those holocrons than with Korto for weeks."

Spinning around to face her, Quinlan nodded. "I will. But I'm not going to discourage him from being himself, Aayla, and I don't want you to either. He's _my_ son and I will raise him as I see fit."

A look of genuine hurt crossed Aayla's face briefly. "I know he's your son, Quin," she whispered. "You don't need to remind me." She raised her chin. "But that doesn't mean that I don't love him, too. He is a part of you, and that matters to me."

Quinlan kicked himself inwardly. "I…I didn't mean it that way."

"I know, love," Aayla nodded, smiling weakly. "It's fine. In any case, you should at least talk to Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. It would be appropriate given that he is Korto's master."

Quinlan stood up. "I will."


	6. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 3, Part II

**Chapter 3**

**Quests, Part II**

Luke was doing his best to keep his attention focused on ex-Chancelor Valorum, but he was failing miserably. No matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes on the white-haired old man's weathered face, they kept wandering to the flawless lines – as if drawn by the Force itself – of the face of Valorum's beautiful aide.

"Master and Lady Skywalker, you both honor me with this meeting," Valorum announced in a firm, steady baritone that seemed incongruous with his frail form.

At the sound of Valorum's voice, Luke dragged his eyes back to the man and then he scanned the room.

His father nodded curtly but his face remained impassive—not at all surprising given that Anakin Skywalker was never one to show deference to anyone. Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man was so used to being the center of attention, that he didn't have the capacity to consider the possibility that he was not the most important person in the room.

Manu, on the other hand, seemed genuinely uncomfortable. She had her politician face on in full force, of course, but without a doubt, something was bothering her. As far as Luke could recall, his mother had never been perturbed by anyone. The entire Galaxy knew that Padmé Amidala Skywalker had stood up against the Great Sith Conspiracy while carrying her children in her womb. It had become legend. To see her rubbing the palm of one hand with the thumb of another was….unsettling.

Luke only knew of Valorum peripherally—that he had been Chancellor before Palpatine and that he had been voted out of office mired in accusations of corruption. Try as he might, Luke couldn't conceive of any reason for Manu's odd reaction to the meeting.

Frowning inwardly, Luke closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force, trying to sense the source of his mother's consternation. When he drew a slow breath in through his nose, the intoxicating scent of jade blooms assaulted his senses. Immediately his thoughts shifted and an image of the red-haired beauty that sat across from him floated to the surface.

Luke found himself smiling as she stood before him, surrounded by a white mist, completely naked. Unfortunately, the insufferable wisps of fog managed to cover all her most interesting body parts. Grasping hold of the vision, Luke tried to will the obstructions to part. Slowly, an unseen gust of wind started in the vision and pushed the clouds away.

Any moment now…

Luke's smile grew.

Almost…

A sharp pain shot up from his ribcage and his eyes popped open.

"Pay attention!" Leia leaned over and whispered. "They're talking about us." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you blushing?"

"Shut up!" Luke frowned as he flopped back into his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his side. It took only a moment for Luke to realize that by 'us', Leia meant the Jedi Order. He sighed.

"…as it stands, the Jedi Council cannot continue as you have indefinitely," Valorum's voice droned on.

"That is all well and good," Obi-Wan replied, placing his hands together on the table as he leaned forward. "I'm just not sure what you propose we do about it. We are not interested in placing the Jedi Order in the position of being funded by the Senate. We have no intention of being used as political pawns of the Republic, ever again."

Valorum nodded and let out a laborious-sounding breath. "I understand your position completely. It is for this very reason that I have come." Leveling his eyes on Anakin, his face grew stern. "Most of the members of the Senate are convinced that the Jedi Order represents a force to be reckoned with in the Galaxy."

Anakin frowned. "We pose no threat to the Republic."

Valorum waved his hand. "Of course you don't, Master Skywalker. But the fact remains, you _are_ powerful—both in capability and politically."

Padmé's eyes widened. "Politically? Surely you aren't serious."

Casting a sidelong glance at her, Valorum raised an eyebrow. "We all know that a seemingly innocuous political move can have disastrous consequences."

Manu's mouth fell open slightly. After a brief moment, she closed her mouth again and her lips thinned. "What, precisely, do you propose?"

Valorum leaned back in his chair, placed each elbow on an armrest and brought his fingers together into a steeple at his chin. "I'm sure you've heard of the bill under consideration now in the Senate that is intended to restore the funding that was cut off from the Order under your tenure, Madame Skywalker."

"Yes, I'm aware of it." Padmé's tone was non-committal, but Luke detected a hint of tension in her voice.

"Don't you think it odd that the Order has not been consulted on this bill?"

Obi-Wan brought a hand to his chin and rubbed his gray beard. "Yes, we do. But the Council currently has no intention of accepting funding from _any_ government, let alone the Republic Senate."

"That is precisely the point, Master Kenobi," Mara spoke up for the first time. Luke realized that it was the first time that he'd heard her voice. Her melodious tone was as beautiful as she was. "Everyone knows that the Council has cut ties with the Republic. Many are concerned about having so powerful a group as the Jedi Order gallivanting around the Galaxy without any oversight."

"The Jedi do not gallivant!" Leia snapped.

Valorum raised his hand. "Please, forgive my assistant," he smiled. "Mara is quite adept at many things, but choosing her words carefully is not one of them." He looked over at his aide sternly.

"My apologies," Mara said through her teeth. "I meant no offense." She held Leia's stare for several tense moments. Finally, Leia nodded slightly and Mara returned the silent gesture before turning her attention back to Obi-Wan. "The point is that it is very possible that this bill was introduced solely to force the Jedi to refuse the offer. In doing so, certain Senators could use that as proof that the Jedi represent a threat to democracy."

"I'm sorry," Anakin shook his head. "Maybe I'm as dense as a neutron star, but I have no idea where you're going with this."

Padmé placed a hand on Anakin's and smiled. "They're saying that there are those in the Senate who would use our refusal for funding as a platform to further their own political ambitions." She looked back at Valorum who merely nodded. "It's a tried and true ploy," Padmé sighed. "Select a group that everyone knows little about—a group that no one understands—and vilify them. While the people are focused solely on this new enemy, they willingly surrender power in the hope of stopping this new threat."

"Sounds like something Palpatine would do," Anakin growled.

"Precisely," Valorum answered. "In this case, a young Senator by the name of Fett leads the cause."

"Fett?" Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "A clone?"

"You really should pay closer attention to galactic politics, Master Kenobi," Valorum frowned. "Two years ago, Mr. Fett sued in the Galactic High Court to give the clones equal rights as citizens of the Republic. He won resoundingly. After that, it was a simple matter of filing the necessary claims as a nomadic culture to obtain representation in the Senate, with Fett himself as the Senator for the Clones, of course."

The room fell silent.

"It is no small thing that Senator Fett has accomplished, my friends. He has successfully played on the public's distrust of the Jedi. Left unchecked, his power in the Senate will continue grow. He has made no secret of his wish to have the Republic either establish control of the Jedi Order or…"

Padmé's mouth fell open for a second time.

"Or?" Anakin leaned forward, his eyes ablaze.

Luke shook his head, wondering how his father, a man considered so great by so many, could be so obtuse. "Or destroy it, Father." Sitting up in his chair, Luke frowned. "I was afraid of this. I've been watching RNet for the last few weeks and the Order has come up quite a bit."

"Yes. I've noticed it too," Leia agreed, nodding her head. "They mean to send the GAR to disband us."

"Surely you don't think it's come to that, do you?" Obi-Wan looked genuinely bewildered.

Valorum dropped his hands and sighed. "No, not yet. But it is only a matter of time, my friends. Something must be done. You can't let the fate of the Order be decided like this."

"You haven't answered my question, Finis," Padmé frowned. "What do you propose we do?"

Nodding slightly, Valorum pushed his chair back and leaned heavily on his armrests as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He wheezed as he steadied himself and then walked over stand before Padmé and Anakin.

"You need representation in the Senate," he announced. "The only way to avoid the political consequences of this bill is to become a represented nation in the Senate as the Clones have. If you file a claim as a nomadic nation, the Senate will not be able to pass a bill that would indenture your nation. You would not have to make a political statement by refusing the Republic. As a represented nation, the Jedi would be able to render assistance as you always have within the confines of the bureaucracy without being beholden to it."

"I hate politics," Anakin growled. "I have no intention of becoming a Senator!"

Valorum chuckled. "With all due respect, Master Skywalker, you're the _last_ person in the Galaxy that I would suggest represent the Jedi Order."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan interjected. "Why not?"

Valorum's swiveled his head to Obi-Wan, his eyebrows drawing together. "You and your fellow Council Members represent the old Jedi Order—the one that people still associate with the Clone Wars." Valorum's tone suggested that he thought the answer was obvious. "No…none of you would do at all. You need fresh blood. Young Senators who the members of the Senate would trust to have the Galaxy's interests at heart."

Padmé stood up. "Absolutely not!" she cried.

Anakin joined her, looking confused. "What? Who is he talking about?"

"Each nation is allowed to have up to two representatives," Mara said quietly.

Luke felt a surge of excitement in his gut and watched realization slowly dawn on his father as Anakin's eyes went wide.

Obi-Wan stood. "You can't be serious."

"I am old, Master Kenobi," Valorum replied tiredly. "I have no time for games. Luke and Leia are the perfect candidates to represent the Jedi Order in the Galactic Senate."

* * *

Harm had long ago lost all interest in the conversation going on between Windu and Broga, if it could be called that. He sat with them in the inconspicuous but lavish booth at the far corner of The Moonrise Club. The pair had sat quietly for over an hour sipping on Karotian Green and only occasionally did one say anything to the other.

Far more interesting to Harm was the breathtaking Falleen dancer who moved with such seductive grace on the stage with two Twi'lek companions. The sight of a Falleen on Tatooine was strange, to say the least. The Falleen were notorious for keeping to themselves and avoiding unnecessary contact with 'lesser' species. Their reclusive nature had made them a legend among pleasure-seekers and slave traders. Watching the supple curves sway with such seductive power from across the room, Harm became acutely aware of why the Moonrise Club had achieved such popularity despite being immensely exclusive.

Everything he had heard about the Falleen seemed to be true. Despite her reptilian scales that would normally be off-putting to most human males, the dancer had managed to captivate every creature in the bar—every creature, that is, except the two that he sat with. In perfect tune to the music, her scales pulsed with vibrant colors, changing from fiery red to a penetrating deep blue.

As the music picked up the pace, so did the dancer's erotic movements. The two Twi'lek dancers that adorned her on either side served only to accentuate how much more astounding this Falleen woman was compared to even the most beautiful of the other species.

Harm wiped a hand across his brow, completely unable to suppress the smile on his face.

"Amazing, she is, no?" Broga leaned over conspiratorially, somehow managing to whisper and still be heard above the din.

Leaning back in his seat, but keeping his eyes riveted on the dancing beauty, Harm smiled. "She sure is. She yours?"

Broga chuckled. "Own this establishment, I do. Arranged for the entertainment, I have. Own Xixan? Know, you must not, any Falleen women!"

Harm grinned. "Actually, I was asking if she was available, not if she was your slave."

Windu shook his head. "To the Falleen, there is no difference between being a slave and being betrothed."

Broga gawped at Windu. "Met many Falleen, you have?"

Windu simply raised an eyebrow.

Returning his attention to Harm, Broga smiled. "Correct, his observation is, bounty hunter. To answer your question more directly, taken a lover, Xixan has not. Arrange a meeting between you, I can, if you like."

Harm sat up. "Are you serious? You would do that?"

Broga laughed. "No promises I make, about the outcome of the meeting." He leaned his head back into the soft, purple velvet of the booth. "But arrange for an intimate meeting alone, I can."

Looking back over at the woman, who now moved through the crowd as she danced, Harm frowned. "In exchange for what?"

A wry smile played across Broga's lips. "Wise, you are, bounty hunter. Get something for free in this galaxy, you cannot." Tilting his head slightly in Windu's direction, Broga smiled.

Harm nodded. "And here I just thought you two had nothing to talk about." Sliding out from the booth, he stood. "I think I'll take a look around if that's all right with you two. I should be back in…" Harm watch Broga extend a single clawed hand. "…an hour or so."

Broga and Windu nodded, though only the tiny green creature smiled.

Reaching into his pocket, Harm pulled out a coin and tossed it on the table. "For the drink, in case I come back and you're both gone."

* * *

Slipping out the rear entrance and away from the noisy bar, Harm slid the receiver into his ear. The coin he had tossed on the table was picking up the conversation perfectly, though the music was drowning out their words. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a device and made a few adjustments. Having already sampled their voices, it was a simple matter to filter out the extraneous noise and only receive the conversation between the two.

"_Seek to employ you, the bounty hunter does."_

"_I know."_

"_Accept his invitation, you will?"_

"_Perhaps. He has faster transportation than I'm likely to find."_

A sudden movement caught Harm's eye as the conversation between the two suddenly stopped. Ducking behind a large metal canister used for storing trash, he spotted two obviously drunk pilots he had met on a few occasions, stumbling down the alleyway. Shaking his head, Harm waited for the conversation to continue.

"_This holocron you seek, why come to me for information?" _

"_What makes you think I'm looking for a holocron?"_

"_Play games with each other, we should not, ex-Jedi. Purveyor of information, I am. Come to me with questions, you have. Armed with answers, I am. What to offer, have you?"_

The pause in the conversation was deafening.

"_Very well. A reliable source is convinced that, if this holocron exists, the trail starts here. I don't know why it's important and I don't care. I just need to find it."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because it doesn't matter who has the device right now, it's in the wrong hands."_

"_No! Not why seek you the device! Why you?"_ Broga's sudden grunt gave the impression that he was moving around. _"Why did Quinlan Vos ask you to find it, ex-Jedi?"_

There was no doubt that Windu was surprised by the question. Harm could clearly envision the stern, narrow eyes of Windu piercing the diminutive creature. Chuckling to himself, Harm slipped to the ground between the metal dumpster and the wall.

"_Who sent me and why, is irrelevant."_

"_Of course. Of course. Forgive me. Professional curiosity alone, it was. Disclose all your secrets, you need not."_

"_What do you want in exchange for the information?"_

"_Straight to the point, you are! Like that, I do."_

"_As you said, let's not play games."_

"_Join the bounty hunter. Important to a valued friend, his next bounty is."_

Harm straightened. He hadn't had a fare in months. Either Broga knew something that he didn't know or the little peddler was up to something. Harm scraped a fingernail against the stubble on his chin.

"_I don't kill for money."_

"_Good. Alive, this bounty is to be taken. Useful in ensuring this happens, your skills will be."_

"_And you know where the holocron is?"_

Harm frowned when his receiver picked up Broga's sigh.

"_No. But know where on Tatooine, most likely it could be."_

"_Very well. That will have to do."_

There was a long pause in the conversation and Harm began to wonder if the transmitter had stopped working. Checking his chronometer, he realized that he had been sitting outside for nearly an hour. A soft rattling sound that managed to escape the filters came over the receiver implied that the coin had been picked up.

Biting his lip in frustration, Harm cursed and pushed himself to his feet. Deciding there was little point in continuing to stand outside, he slipped from his hiding place and turned the corner to go back through the rear entrance.

Just outside the door stood Windu. He was leaning against the narrow wall, nonchalantly rotating the coin from one finger to the next with astonishing dexterity in the shadows cast by the faint streetlights behind Harm.

"Next time you decide you want to listen in on a private conversation involving me, Harm…" Windu said, his tone soft, but menacing.

"Yeah?"

"Don't."


	7. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 4, Part I

**Author's note: **At this point, I think it's important to remind all of you reading that this story is intended for mature audiences and may not be suitable for young teens. This chapter is the first time that this will come up, but it will come up again. If you think you will be offended by coarse language, sexuality, or graphic violence, then this is probably not the story for you. Thanks for reading up to now. :)

Separate note: Though you'll probably grasp it based on context, a couple huttese translations for you.

1. Porko poodoo bantha – Big pile of bantha poo (equivalent to "what a pile of shit")

2. Chu ta je – Fuck me!

**Chapter 4  
Until Death…  
Part I**

The reverberations in the stone floor coursing through his black boots and up his spine did nothing to halt Anakin's pacing. From the corner of his awareness he sensed Padmé behind him, patiently waiting for him to settle down to the point that he could speak. He spun on his heels yet again, this time glaring at her with as much frustration as he could muster.

Padmé inclined her head ever so slightly and arched her right eyebrow. "Finished?"

"No!" Anakin growled and began to pace across their bed chamber again.

Smiling slightly in response, Padmé daintily clasped her hands in front of her and watched her husband reach the edge of the transparisteel door that led to the veranda, twist on his heel, and march back toward the bed.

"He's up to something!" Anakin snapped.

"Why do you say that?" Padmé asked nonchalantly.

Anakin spun around and plopped down onto the bed. "Call it an educated guess."

Padmé glided over and slid onto the bed next to him. She reached up and brushed a stray lock of his hair behind his ear and smiled. Leaning forward, she gently touched his gray-streaked temples with her lips, her warm breath sending shivers along his spine and raising the hairs on his arms.

"You're tense," she whispered as she ran her long fingers along the nape of his neck. Instantly Anakin's eyes slid shut, as if on their own volition, and his head dropped forward, allowing Padmé greater access to perform her expert ministrations. She slipped behind him deftly, cradling his back between her legs as she grasped both his shoulders in her delicate but powerful hands and began kneading his taut muscles.

"You're changing the subject," Anakin murmured. As Padmé began to pull her hands away, Anakin reached up and grabbed them, holding them in place. "I wasn't exactly complaining, you know."

He could feel her triumphant smile but decided to let her have her victory as long as she kept doing what she was doing. He knew she was simply softening him up so they could have one of those 'rational' discussions she was so fond of.

"Did you sense any deception from Valorum, love?"

"Hmmm?" A moan escaped Anakin's lips as Padmé pressed her thumb deep into his shoulder. "No…not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

Lifting his head, Anakin let it fall backward on her shoulder. Padmé nuzzled his cheek with her own and kissed him gently on the ear.

"I didn't sense anything from him, actually," Anakin went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's what's bothering me. I should have sensed _something_. It's as if he was somehow shielding himself."

Padmé was silent for several moments, though she continued to massage his neck. "That _is_ odd," she said at last. "How do you suppose he would know how to do that?"

Sliding his hands along her calves, Anakin shrugged. "Well, he's been around Jedi pretty much all his life. It's not out of the question that he might have learned a few tricks."

"Enough to be able to stop you from knowing what he's thinking? I don't think that's likely, is it?" Padmé slipped her arms around his waist as he leaned more heavily into her. "Besides, why would he shield himself in the first place?"

"Good point and even better question."

"Do you think the Council should heed his advice anyway?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me." Anakin leaned forward and rested his elbows against his knees. Padmé took the opportunity to begin rubbing his lower back. "What he said made sense, Padmé. Perfect sense. In fact, it's almost as if that's the only answer to the situation."

"And that's why it makes you nervous."

"Exactly! Why now? Why after all these years, Padmé?" Anakin stood and walked over the doorway to the veranda. "The Senate has mumbled about the Jedi for over a decade, but they've always pretty much left us alone. Most of the Senators there are secretly indebted to us for helping them out of one jam or another. It doesn't make sense!" He turned around and leaned against the wall. "And why Luke and Leia? They have no political experience at all!"

"Well, their status as the children of the couple that saved the galaxy would give them instant credibility." Padmé replied. "The fact that the are well trained would give them the advantage of being able to sense duplicity."

Anakin chuckled. "I'm afraid in the Senate, their alarm klaxons will be on full alert all the time!"

"So you'll go through with it?"

Anakin straightened. "I won't vote on the matter. Luke and Leia are my children. This is a matter for the Council to decide and I won't use my influence to affect the outcome."

Padmé nodded. "Of course not." She looked at him and Anakin found himself relaxing into the murky darkness of her eyes. "When will the Council meet?"

"Tomorrow. Valorum and his aide leave tonight so we'll wait until after they're gone." A familiar stirring drew Anakin away from the doorway and back to the bed. "I hate politics."

He waved his hand and the opacity nodes activated, blocking out the outside world and darkening the room.

Padmé smiled. "So you keep saying."

Moving between her knees, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. "There are other things I'd rather discuss," he breathed.

"I don't think discussion is what you had in mind at all, Master Jedi."

Tracing his lips along her cheek, he pulled her earlobe into his mouth as he leaned her backward into the bed and pressed his weight onto her. She moaned as he called on the Force in tiny vibrations and sent them pulsating along her legs.

"I love it when you call me Master."

"Just shut up and get these off me."

With unrestrained glee, Anakin focused his mind on the numerous latches and buttons that kept him away from Padmé's soft skin. A flicker of his mind undid them all in an instant. As he slid off the bed and stood, Padmé's giggle was all the reward he needed for the moment.

"I'll never get used to that," she grinned as she stood.

Widening his eyes so as not to miss a single moment of Padmé's slow revelation, Anakin held his breath as she reached up and slid the voluminous garments off her shoulders on into a pile at her feet.

Over the years, Padmé's once-taut skin had lost some of its elasticity. Her rounded breasts no longer defied the gravity of even the most massive of inhabitable planets. If one looked closely, small creases could be found at the corners of her eyes and lines had formed along the once-smooth contours of her lips. Time and experience had softened her hard edges. Her eyes had grown more inviting, her smile, more luminous. Now she stood not just with the poise of a senator but with the grace and beauty of finely polished Kaminoan pearl.

To Anakin, she was even lovelier than his youthful memories of the angel who had descended from the sky and visited his tiny sand-strewn planet to whisk him away from slavery and misery. The curve of her lips as she smiled at his unabashed lustful glare was all it would ever take make his arousal complete. The sway of her hips as she stepped out of the forgotten dress on the floor and crossed the short divide between them was enough to cause his chest to clench. The gentle bounce of her breasts as she moved created pangs of desire deep within his gut as his mouth salivated in anticipation of pulling her pink nipples into his hungry mouth.

"And I'll…" he stammered with a weak smile, "…I'll never get used to _that_."

With an insistent beckoning, the Force flowed around Anakin like an anxious servant, his robes shredding themselves and flying in tattered shards to the floor.

Padmé grinned. "We lose more robes that way…"

With his arms outstretched, Anakin relished the sensation of her fiery skin against his as the Force brought his lover to him. Anxious to give her pleasure as always, he immediately drew her neck to his waiting mouth as he cradled her head in his hands. As he felt her sink into his embrace, Anakin felt the blood leave his extremities and rush to his core, leaving a prickling sensation in his toes and fingers.

A twist of his mind lifted them both into the air and deposited them softly into their downy bed, the covers sliding out of the way to welcome their love. As they sank into the folds, Anakin sent whispers through the Force that accompanied his practiced fingers as they gently traced the outline of her back from the nape of her neck to the soft roundness of her buttocks.

When she rolled onto her back, he kept the vibrations flowing along her spine as he devoured one of her nipples with growing need. Slowly he let his mind drift, the Force floating upward along her back as his hand slid tantalizingly along her stomach.

Padmé arched her back, thrusting her pelvis in the air. Anakin smiled. Showering her with slow, sensual kisses, Anakin moved down her body, tracing his tongue from her sternum to her navel in steady, almost imperceptible steps.

With a firm grasp of his hair, Padmé pushed on his head, urging him lower. Ignoring the overwhelming need building within him, Anakin continued his descent, turning his attention to her hips as he inhaled the scent of her arousal.

_Open your mind to me, love, _Anakin whispered into Padmé's mind.

An eternity of anticipation.

A deluge of pleasure emanated from his writhing wife.

Her legs hooked themselves on his shoulders.

His mouth descended on her to sate her desire.

As he devoured her, Anakin opened himself more fully to the Force, joining Padmé in the pleasure she felt, sensing her desires in a wordless flow of thoughts and needs. His hands and the Force swam across her body, responding to her urgings with growing intensity as seamlessly as she wished.

When she screamed out in pleasure and shook with release, Anakin shuddered with her.

Free of all thoughts but the ones they shared, Anakin and Padmé slipped into blissful unconsciousness, his head resting on the slow rise and fall of the soft cushion of her breasts.

* * *

As the terminal readout scrolled across his darkened cockpit, Harm whistled in surprise. Leaning back into his chair, he scratched the stubble on his chin, lost in thought. The silent whir of servomotors and gentle clicks from atmospheric control relays were all he heard above his own breathing.

He felt a prickle on the back of his neck.

"Porko poodoo bantha!" Harm spat as he spun in his chair and stood.

A dark shadow leaning against the narrow cabin entrance shifted.

Nearly two decades of reflexes coalesced in an instant to bring Harm's blaster to bear. Before his thumb could flick the safety off, the weapon shot out of his hands and disappeared into the darkness.

"Watch where you point that thing," Windu's sudden, scratchy voice growled out of the murkiness. Stepping out into the light, he extended the handle of the blaster to Harm and sat down in the pilot's chair.

Harm snatched back his blaster, holstering it as he let out a breath. "You shouldn't sneak up on a man like me, Windu. You're liable to get shot."

Windu glanced back at Harm, the corner of his mouth upturned in what might pass for a half-smile. "I'll keep that in mind." He leaned over and studied the console that Harm had been reading. "I take it this is your new bounty?"

"Yeah…" Harm frowned. "Stinks. Chu ta je!"

"No need for that kind of language." Windu scrolled through the message. "Everything on this planet smells, what makes this assignment any different?"

Harm stared at Windu in shock. "Did you see who we're after and who we have to go through to get them?"

Windu knit his brow in clear confusion and looked again at the screen. "A human and a Wookiee and they're being held by a hutt." Shrugging, Windu looked back over at Harm. "I don't see a problem."

"You…you don't see a problem??" Harm shook his head. "That's not just_ any_ human, Windu! That's Han kraffin' Solo! He's the best smuggler in this sector! Ask him, he'll tell you!"

Windu replied with a blank stare.

"Fine! You might not be afraid of a measly human but that Wookiee friend of his is as strong as Corellian burgha and faster than a kryat dragon. What's worse, they're in the custody of _Jabba the Hutt_!! This assignment is way outta my league."

"I suppose it's a good thing I'm here."

"_That's_ what stinks about this assignment, Windu!"

"I don't follow."

Harm rolled his eyes. "I thought you Jedi were supposed to be really smart!" When he caught a glimpse of Windu's stern frown, he swallowed. "No offense." Twisting the copilot's chair around so that he was fully facing Windu, Harm leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "There is no way anyone would give me this assignment. A job like this involves breaking into Jabba's palace and only a fully trained unit would even consider it. What's more, even if we could get a hold of Solo and his Wookiee, there's no easy way to keep hold of him. The guy has a habit of getting out of every jam he finds himself in."

"Seems to me like his luck ran out."

"Fair enough. Jabba's got an army of bounty hunters working for him. What do we have?"

Windu raised his right eyebrow.

"Right. I've got you. But that's my problem with this whole thing. I _shouldn't_ have you. Jor and Shinn are capable guys, but they'd be useless in taking in this bounty. They're my normal crew. You're not."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that it seems awfully convenient that I'd get this assignment right after I stumble on to the only guy on the planet who could help me pull it off."

"Your point is that it's a trap?"

"Well…yeah…"

Windu sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Of _course_ it's a trap."

Harm's mouth fell open. After a long moment, he shut it again and drew his eyebrows together. "Now I'm the one who doesn't follow."

"Broga knew too much about why I was here and offered to help me entirely too readily." Windu brought his fingers together and rested them against his chin. "He came into our discussion entirely too prepared. He had his 'payment' already worked out."

"So this bounty for Solo is fake?"

"No. I'm sure it's real. A creature like Broga doesn't get where he has by shutting off options. He wants to get rid of me and he wants Solo, but he wants Solo less. He hopes that I'll be eliminated in the effort to extricate Solo from Jabba. If, by some chance, I make it out with the bounty, then Broga still wins and all he has to do is work out how he'll take me out later on."

"But this bounty isn't from Broga. It's from some moisture magnate."

"Broga's behind it, I assure you. What's more, you can bet that Jabba's been warned that we're on our way."

"Why would Broga warn Jabba?"

It was Windu's turn to look surprised. He shook his head. "I thought you bounty hunters were supposed to be smart."

Harm narrowed his eyes and pretended to smile. "Funny."

"The objective of this assignment is to get rid of me."

"Well, that doesn't sound like too cozy a job to me. I'm not interested in being caught in the crossfire." Harm leaned over to access the terminal.

"What do you think you're doing?" Windu's tone was firm and froze Harm in place.

"Umm…I'm just declining the bounty. I do it all the time. No big deal."

"Why would you do that?"

Harm frowned. "Because…it's…a trap? What the _chuta_ do you expect me to do?"

The corners of Windu's mouth turned upward and this time there was no doubt that he was smiling. A growing hollow sensation grew in Harm's gut.

"We spring the trap," Windu answered, a hint of his teeth slipping through in his smile.

"Right!" Harm sighed, allowing his hands to drop into his lap. "Spring the trap! Of course we should spring the trap! Why didn't I think of that?"


	8. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 4, Part II

**Chapter 4**

**Until Death…**

**Part II**

"What the—!?"

Obi-Wan leaped up from the dirt floor, wide-eyed.

A quick glance in Luke and Leia's direction confirmed that they had sensed the frozen darkness that had pierced his meditation as well. Leia, always the more cautious of the two, stood in place with a frown of concentration etched in her face, apparently struggling to grasp what she had felt.

Luke dashed through the doorway.

"They're in the old temple!" he screamed as he blew by Obi-Wan.

"Luke!!" Obi-Wan yelled to the boy's back. Luke didn't slow. "No! Wait!!"

Torn between chasing after his padawan and discerning the meaning of the cold explosion he had felt, Obi-Wan growled inwardly. "Leia!" he snapped.

Leia looked up distractedly. "What…_was_ that?"

"No time! Go! Find Anakin. I'm going after your brother!"

Not waiting for a response, Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force and poured its energies into his legs as he raced down the stone corridors.

* * *

Anakin's chest froze as his eyes popped open. Leaping upward, he threw on a set of robes and rushed to the door.

Padmé, startled awake by Anakin's hurried movements, jumped out of the bed and grabbed his elbow just as he was crossing the threshold.

"What is it?"

Anakin focused to steady his breathing. "Something or someone's here—in the old temple! And it reeks of the dark side!"

Padmé knew better than to question what Anakin sensed in the Force. "How is that possible? What does it want?"

"No time! Leia's on her way here but Luke's gone after it. Stay with her out of sight."

"But—"

Anakin wrested his elbow free and ran.

* * *

Aayla jumped out of the 'fresher in time to see Quinlan fixing his lightsaber hilt to his belt. Though he outwardly appeared calm, Aayla felt waves of disorientation and…fear...pouring off the Kiffar.

"I felt it too," she offered, "but I can't locate the source."

Quinlan's eyes went distant. "The old temple." He frowned. "And…somewhere...no!!" Growling, Vos spun on his heels and dashed through the doorway, barely clearing the parting doors as they opened for him.

The fluttering ends of his cloak vanished down the hallway before Aayla could even begin to ask what he had sensed.

* * *

"Leia! What is going on?"

Leia scanned her mother's bed chamber, frowning. "I don't know, Manu."

The cold hadn't dissipated even though she had gotten farther away from the source. Glancing about, unsure of what she was looking for, Leia saw nothing out of place. Regardless, she couldn't shake the sensation that…

_Cold._

"Leia! What is it?" Padmé grabbed Leia's shoulders as her knees buckled. "Talk to me!"

Sinking to the floor, Leia dropped to one knee, her stomach suddenly hollow.

"So…cold…" she rasped.

Padmé's face contorted in confusion. "Leia…you're sweating." She knelt by Leia, pulling her close. Padmé placed the back her hand on Leia's forehead and frowned. "You don't have a fever. You should lie down."

"No!" Grasping her mother's shoulder fiercely, Leia looked up desperately. "We…need to get out of here." Swallowing the bile that threatened to erupt from her stomach, she pushed herself up and opened her perceptions to the Force.

Nothing.

A void.

Leia's eyes widened.

No.Three voids.

Approaching.

Leia grabbed her mother's elbow and pushed her hard toward the door.

"Manu! Run!"

* * *

Harm was used to silence, but this was downright eerie. Windu had been explaining his plan to extricate Solo and the Wookiee from Jabaa's palace when he just stopped and started staring at…absolutely nothing!

The ex-Jedi's eyes had gone glassy and he'd remained stone still since. That was over five minutes before.

Five endless minutes.

Harm waved his hand back and forth in front of Windu's stare. "Hey Windu! You still in there somewhere?"

Windu didn't budge.

"Windu! Snap out of it!"

Windu blinked.

A moment later, a frown burned itself into the Korun's face. After a seemingly interminably longer moment, he turned his head and looked directly into Harm's eyes. Windu's normally gleaming brown skin suddenly appeared ashen; his eyes dark and filled with…fear?

Harm's stomach dropped through the deck. _What the kraff could scare a man like Windu?_

Windu blinked again. In an instant, he seemed to regain his composure and narrowed his eyes.

"I need to use your transceiver," he whispered simply.

"Umm…yeah…sure thing." Harm stood. "You mind telling me what's going on first?"

Windu spun in his chair and began entering a sequence on the console. Not responding, he seemed to focus entirely on the keying sequence.

Glancing at the destination algorithm that Windu had entered, Harm frowned. "Who the heck do you know on Yavin? Hey! Isn't that where the Jedi are? I thought you weren't a Jedi anymore. What're you doing calling them?"

"Leave!" Windu growled.

"Not this time, Jedi!" Harm snapped, gripping his blaster. "You're not calling your Jedi buddies down on me!"

Harm suddenly felt himself hoisted in the air and shoved unceremoniously out the cockpit and into the adjoining cabin. As he leaped to his feet, the cockpit door clamped shut and blocked his path.

"What the kraff are you doing, Windu?" Harm pounded against the obstinate durasteel. Hearing nothing from within the cockpit, he pulled his blaster out and aimed it at the door. "I'll blast it, Windu! It's my ship. Don't you—"

His blaster fell apart in his hand, disassembling itself in seconds.

"E chu ta, Windu!!"

Harm leaned his back against the door. "Kraff!"

* * *

"Luke! Wait!!" Obi-Wan yelled breathlessly.

The combination of the raw physical prowess of his youth and his immense power in the Force widened the gap between Obi-Wan and the racing boy. In a flash, the memory of an equally young Anakin running headlong into unknown danger rushed to Obi-Wan's mind.

_Not this time!_ Obi-Wan's mind reeled.

Halting in his tracks, Obi-Wan extended his hand and called on the Force. Luke flew off his feet and backwards. Before the confused padawan could regain his footing, Obi-wan leaped to cover the distance between them, landing somewhat gracelessly beside the boy and tumbling end over end. Groaning, Obi-Wan forced himself upright and glared at Luke.

"Uncle Obi! Are you all right?"

Luke seemed to have lost all interest in dashing into the temple for the moment. Perhaps he wasn't as self-absorbed as Obi-Wan had feared. Nodding, Obi-Wan stood and brushed himself off.

"I'm fine." He turned and looked sternly at the boy. "Precisely what did you hope to accomplish by running into the temple by yourself, Luke?"

Luke dropped his head. "I…didn't…"

"Think?" Obi-wan finished. "No, you didn't." When Luke looked as if he wanted to sink through the ground, Obi-Wan sighed. His padawan was at the tempestuous age when a boy, desperately wanting to be thought of as man, fights his own insecurity with false bravado. Only through demonstrated confidence in him, would Luke learn that he didn't have to prove himself at every turn. Perhaps when Luke learned that simple truth, he might find it in himself to put aside the resentment he obviously harbored for his father. He placed a warm hand Luke's shoulder.

"Your instincts serve you well, Luke but you cannot let them rule you. We'll go in together."

Luke looked up with wide eyes.

"Don't look so surprised," Obi-Wan smiled. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing. I'll need you."

_Cold._

Luke sank to his knees, ashen.

Obi-Wan grasped Luke's elbow and pulled him up. "What you're feeling is a surge in the dark side, Luke. Do not fight it. Simply let it pass through you. Open yourself to the Force and let the light side of the Force warm you."

Ever the astute student, Luke closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Slowly, the color returned to his face.

"Good. Remember this lesson well." Obi-Wan turned and looked at the long ramp of stone stairs that led to the black maw of the temple entrance from which the frozen darkness flowed. "You will need to know how to handle the dark side when we get in there."

"Yes, Master," Luke answered, straightening his head and setting his feet.

"Come on. We need to go. Whatever's there is growing stronger."

* * *

Anakin's legs felt surprisingly heavy and slow, as if he were moving through the viscous marshes of Felucia. His aging joints groaned in protest as he poured more of the Force into them, flexing his protesting muscles with increasing intensity.

In the distance, less than a half-kilometer away, he watched in unrestrained horror as the tiny forms of Luke and Obi-Wan vanished into the jaws of the temple.

_NO!!_

The wind pounded against his ears in turbulent storm. To his right, dashing across the open meadow, Quinlan Vos seemed to be mirroring Anakin's pace. Anakin's eyes narrowed. Vos wasn't running toward the temple.

_No time,_ Anakin frowned inwardly. He focused his perceptions on the temple, trying to discern the nature of the darkness within.

Nothing.

A void.

No. Three voids.

Moving toward the door.

_A trap??_

Growling in frustration at his slow pace and pushing aside his confusion, Anakin extended his consciousness in the Force and dragged the power in around him. Subjugating the energy that swirled around him to his will, Anakin lifted himself off the ground and hurled himself through the sky.

Within seconds the distance collapsed, and the temple walls rushed at him. Anakin crashed against the temple's outer walls with only the Force for a cushion and collapsed to the stone floor. Ignoring the ringing in his head, he sprang to his feet and dashed towards the door.

An unexpected surge of power blasted him down the stairway.

Rolling with the blow, Anakin landed fitfully on his feet at the bottom of the long ramp of stone. He let the unsuppressed rage burgeoning in his chest flow through him to feed his strength.

"Oh, no you don't!" Anakin snarled as he hurled himself in a single bound toward the entrance.

_This is not your fight, 'Chosen One',_ a raspy voice whispered through his rage.

The walls of the temple entrance caved in, stone and rock, blocking any pathway to the darkness beyond.

"NOOOOO!!!"

Anakin pounded his fists against the barrier futilely, oblivious to the agony of bones snapping in his hand under the barrage.

* * *

"_We may be monitored. Keep this brief. What is happening?"_

"We're out of time. What is the status of your mission?"

"_Unclear. This may be a dead end but I have to see it through. There is something on this planet that feels familiar, though I cannot say what nor why._

"Understood. I will investigate from this end."

"_Very well."_

A pause.

"Have you ever heard of the Crimson Suns?"

Silence.

The room seemed darken as the blue ghost on the other end of the transmission twitched.

"_This communication is not secure. Out."_

The hologram vanished and the chamber descended into darkness.

"Kraff…" Vos spat.

* * *

For the third time in as many minutes, Leia swallowed bile.

Dragging her mother through one of the myriad stone tunnels that made up the labyrinth beneath the Massassi ruins, Leia fought desperately to maintain her shockingly weakening connection with the Force. The frozen blanket that had wrapped itself around her was growing tighter every second. Growing dread rose in her throat.

"Leia, where are we going?" Padmé cried, as Leia pulled her mother into yet another empty chamber.

"We're staying ahead of whatever's following us, Mother." Leia looked around the room and frowned. "Damn! We need to get out of here, this is a dead end."

Padmé twisted around and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders. "Enough, Leia! Get a hold of yourself! What is going on? Who are we running from? You're a Jedi."

Leia fought the sense of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. "Manu!" she screamed. "We're being hunted! Someone is after us."

Padmé's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Then let them come." She glanced to the opening through which they had come, barely visible in the dark. "We need light and we need a plan."

"We can't stay here."

"You're right. But running isn't an answer either." Padmé felt along one of the walls for several moments. "Found it." The stone chamber filled with flickering light as the torch in Padmé's hand came to life. "Now. Let's go."

_Do not fear death, little one,_ a silent voice rang in Leia's mind. _Today is not your day._

"Now, Manu! Let's go now!!"

* * *

The faint glow of emerald and blue-white energy provided the only illumination in the old temple's main lobby. Suffocating darkness seemed to pound against the small sphere of light that the two men created.

Luke chanced a quick glance at the avalanche of stone that sealed him and his master in. "We're trapped, Uncle Obi," he whispered over his shoulder. The two men stood back to back, staring out into the darkness that lapped at the edge of their combined light.

"So it would seem, Luke." Obi-Wan shuffled backwards slowly, moving Luke toward the entrance. "It would also seem that this was the plan."

Luke spun around. "What? Who's plan? What are you talking about?"

Obi-Wan faced him and smiled. "We were lured here, Luke, that much is clear. Silence your mind and listen to the whisperings of the Force. Do you hear them?"

Slowing his breathing, Luke shunted his worry aside and listened.

Three.

Mere meters away.

Moving to surround them.

Luke turned his growing fear to rage. "We can stave them off until help arrives," he snarled. "Teru is on the other side of the entrance."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't think so, Luke. They are too powerful for you to face."

Luke's eyes widened. "What?"

"Besides, they're not here for you," Obi-Wan smiled. "There is no death, Luke. Only the Force." He bowed his head. "Forgive me."

A powerful gust of wind whisked about the master and apprentice.

"No!" Luke was hoisted off his feet. "Uncle Obi!! Stop this! I can help you!"

Thrown helplessly into an adjoining antechamber, Luke crashed into stone. A trickle of blood ran down his dazed cheek.

"No!!" Leaping up, he dashed toward the arch that separated him from his master.

The archway crumbled before him, cutting him off. As Luke plunged his lightsaber into the debris, the ceiling above him rumbled, threatening to cave in. He pulled his weapon free, leaving a cauterized hole through which he could see his master standing firm—a single source of light in the darkness.

"Uncle Obi!! Please!!" Luke screamed.

His master's soft voice sang in his head. _If they strike me down, Luke. I shall become more powerful than any of them can possibly imagine._

"NO!!!"

"Brave, but foolish, old one," a raspy male voice called out from the darkness. Three figures, dressed from head to toe in black, their features impossible to discern behind their plain, black masks that only opened about their eyes in tiny slits, entered the glowing sphere of Luke's aging Jedi Master. "He might have been able to save you."

"Only three of you?" Obi-Wan replied. "A tad overconfident, don't you think?"

Three red beams of particle energy joined the light. "Out of respect, we will make this quick."

"You'll forgive me if I don't make this easy."

As a unit, the scarlet blades became a blur and descended on the singular sky-blue fire of Obi-Wan Kenobi.


	9. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 5, Part I

**Chapter 5**

…**Do Us Part, Part I**

"Ugghh!"

Blinking a bead of sweat from his eyes, Obi-Wan pushed back hard against the bloodshine blade that pressed against his lightsaber. No sooner had he driven his opponent backward by a few meters, did another fiery weapon replace the first, forcing him to shunt away the new attack or lose his head.

A decade before, Obi-Wan would have been deft, agile, and smooth in the midst of the turbulence of crimson fire. He would have slipped under the combined barrage with ease, disrupting the flow of his opponents' attacks, forcing them to fight the battle on _his_ terms.

This was not a decade ago.

Obi-Wan's shoulder screamed, protesting the brute force of another blow that he had somehow managed to deflect. The temple lobby flashed brilliant white as energy crackled between the screeching weapons, momentarily dispatching the oppressive darkness.

Again and again blue-white fire crashed against red, a rhythmic brilliant maelstrom of electricity.

Obi-Wan sucked air into his burning lungs, desperately fending off each blow._I won't last long like this._

Sinking into the Force, Obi-Wan stretched his awareness, trying to discern a pattern in his attackers' furious barrage. They moved in near-perfect synchrony, obviously from years of training together, slashing and thrusting at him with deadly precision.

But something was wrong.

They were pushing Obi-Wan to his limits, but only just.

He twisted in place, spinning away from another powerful lunge at his chest, only to find two more swords arcing toward his neck. Ducking low, he threw himself to the ground and slipped beneath the blows in a tight roll. He drew the Force around him in a cushion and used it to hoist him to his feet. As his three opponents rounded on him, Obi-Wan reached into a pouch on his belt and retrieved the smooth circular device he'd carried for years without ever having seen a need for it.

_I hope the bloody thing still works…_

"You move remarkably well for a man your age, Kenobi," one of the weapons whispered. The three blades moved apart, humming ominously as they slowly flanked Obi-Wan on either side with the third closing toward him from the center. "You have made this quite entertaining."

Obi-Wan wiped a hand across his brow as he surveyed the new formation with a wry smile. "I live to serve."

The blades became a blur.

Obi-Wan tossed the tiny sphere to the ground and leaped.

Light erupted from the floor as Obi-Wan sailed high above the scarlet blades. He was rewarded by the surprised yelps from his assailants as the flash grenade lit the entire room for an instant. They would be blinded for several seconds if he was lucky.

Obi-Wan's feet hit the stone tiled floor at a full run as he dashed away from the center of the fight and closer to the Temple entrance.

"Now…" he panted, "…would be a good time for some of your famous heroics, Anakin."

* * *

The avalanche of stone that separated him from the fight was an impenetrable barrier. The Master of the Jedi roared in frustration as he glared at his shattered hand, now merely a mass of purple and red sinew surrounding twisted bones that jutted haphazardly through broken skin.

Behind the wall of crumbled stone, he could feel the dispassionate calculation of Obi-Wan's attackers. Obi-Wan had managed to distract them and he was running away from them. No. He was running toward the entrance—_toward_ Anakin; toward hope.

_You cannot save him, Skywalker, _the hoarse whisper taunted his mind.

From the center of his being, a familiar dragon threatened to unfurl its powerful wings….

"No!" Anakin whispered, closing his eyes and breathing in the renewing energies of the Force. Directing a small portion of his mind to his pulsing hand, the Force flowed to the battered bones and knitted them together. Obi-Wan was thinking, Anakin realized. It was time that he did the same.

He placed his healed palm flat against the largest of the boulders that blocked his path.

_Luke,_ Anakin breathed into the Force, _Hear me, son._

* * *

His eye riveted to the small hole through which he could see the battle, Luke's chest ached from the blaster cannon firing of his heart. Freezing sweat coated his palms, seeping into the grimy, dirt-covered stone obstruction that separated him from Obi-Wan. His muscles burned in desperate frustration as they flexed futilely against the unmovable granite.

Fear.

"I…can't…" Tears flowed down his cheeks. He pushed harder.

Luke squinted against the sudden surge of light from his master as Obi-Wan flew over the heads of his attackers and ran toward the temple entrance. The warriors responded quickly, extinguishing their sabers and plunging the Temple lobby into utter darkness save for the lone sky-blue flame of Luke's master.

Rage.

The Force surged around him, a cacophony of dissonance.

"I…will…not…let…you…" Luke curled his lips into a snarl, ripping the power of the Force from around him and driving it into his weakened frame. At the far corner of his mind, he sensed the darkness encroaching, offering him the power to save his master.

_Luke,_ his father's voice broke through the fog of fury that Luke hadn't realized was there. _Hear me, son._

Luke fell to his knees, collapsing against the unforgiving stone.

_Father…?_

* * *

The soft whoosh of equalizing pressure as the cockpit door opened alerted Harm and he looked up. Windu stood in the doorway, his face as impassive as ever.

"Change of plans," Windu announced simply. "We will be taking the direct route instead."

Harm raised both his eyebrows. Were it anyone but Windu, Harm would have been sure that the man was either attempting some entirely new brand of humor or had been suffering the effects of a seriously concentrated dose of glitterstim. Given that it was, in fact, Windu who stood before him, Harm could only shake his head.

"What's your new plan, Windu?" Harm smirked. "Just walk in the front door and demand they hand over Solo and the Wookie?"

Windu inclined his head slightly and lifted the corner of his mouth. Then, without saying another word, he turned his back, slipped into the pilot's chair and began powering up the engines.

Harm's mouth fell open. "Umm…Windu?" The ship lurched as it began to lift off the ground. "Hey! I was just kidding!" Through the cockpit window, the faint lights of Mos Eisley began to shrink from view. "Can we talk about this?"

* * *

"Manu, where are you leading us?"

Leia did her best to catch her bearings but between the incessant pounding in her head and the cold breath that nipped the base of her neck at every turn, she was hopelessly turned around. To her credit, Manu seemed to know exactly where she was going, moving through the tunnels with quiet efficiency.

"How close are they, Leia?" Padmé called over her shoulder as she turned to the right at a fork in the tunnels.

Leia closed her eyes briefly and sought out the frozen emptiness that represented those who hunted her. She swallowed the fresh taste of bile that found its way up her throat.

"Close, Mother," she frowned. "They seem to be keeping pace with us."

Padmé stopped at a metal doorway that Leia didn't immediately recognize. "I'm not surprised," Padmé replied, glancing down the black tunnels as far the faint torchlight would let her. "Here," she whispered, handing Leia the torch, "hold this. I suspect they'll stop and wait until we're inside and then try to corner us there."

"Why, Manu?" Leia turned her back to her mother and peered into the darkness. "You're right. They've stopped. It's as if they're just waiting."

"They are." Padmé pressed against the stone next to the durasteel door. An instant later an access panel appeared, previously hidden by a stone covering that had slid aside. "We don't have much choice. We have to stand our ground in here." She punched in an access code and the door slid open.

Leia felt her mother's firm hand grip her by the shoulder and yank her through the door. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut. She spun around just in time to see her mother level the muzzle of a blaster at the interior access panel. A shower of electrical sparks and the loud explosion of particle energy crashing into the wall rendered the door inoperable.

"Manu…" Leia looked around, confused. "Where did you get…?"

Padmé twisted away from the door and marched decisively into the dark room. Abruptly, the chamber filled with bright lights and Leia realized that they were in a massive durasteel bunker of some kind, its walls lined with weapons of almost every imaginable kind.

"We're in the armory," Padmé snapped. "We don't have much time before they find a way through that door." She slung a large DC-10 carbide rifle over her shoulder after slipping a twin-blaster holster belt around her waist. "I want you to move to the back and hide behind the canisters." Padmé tossed a small transceiver to Leia. "I should be able to hold them here long enough for you to contact your father."

Leia caught the device and stared at it, blankly. "Manu…"

"Don't argue with me on this, Leia," Padmé warned. "Whoever they are, they seem to be able to affect you."

"No, Manu," Leia stormed over to her mother. "I won't let you face them alone. Only one of us is trained as a Jedi, and that's me."

The sickening sound of groaning metal abruptly echoed in the chamber. The women turned toward the door and watched in horror as the center of the durasteel barrier began to glow bright red.

Leia spun on her mother. "Lightsabers! They're armed with lightsabers, Mother!" Glancing about the armory, she spotted several console panels and containers behind which they could take cover. Leia pointed them out as she handed her mother the transceiver. "Stay low, Manu. If you get a clear shot, take it. I should be able to keep them off you while you contact Teru."

Metal chunks fell from the center of the door as it blazed bright yellow, then white.

Padmé glanced at the door. "Leia…"

Leia took her mother by the shoulders. "I love you, Manu."

Tears formed welled in Padmé's eyes, but did not fall. She pulled Leia into a tight embrace. "Be careful, love."

A beam of particle energy, the color of blood pierced the chamber.

"I will, Manu. I will." Leia pushed her mother gently away. "Now go."

Padmé ducked behind a console on the other side of the room as Leia turned and faced the door.

She unhooked her lightsaber from her belt.

_You don't have to die, child…_

The scarlet blade sliced through the rest of the door, metal chunks clanking harshly against the metal floor as they fell.

Fierce determination burned in Leia's chest as brightly as the sky-blue energy that came to life in her fist. "Who said anything about dying?"

* * *

Silence.

Suffocating quiet joined the darkness that pressed against Obi-Wan's sphere of light from all directions.

"Perhaps we underestimated you, old man," a deep baritone rang from behind.

Obi-Wan whirled toward the voice.

"Indeed," the raspy voice intoned from his right, just out of sight. "You are more powerful than we believed."

"Well," Obi-Wan smiled, "I _have_ managed to stay in shape." He could finally sense them completely in the darkness. Whether this was because he had calmed himself completely or because his opponents had chosen to loosen their shields, he could not tell.

They closed in slowly, more cautious than they had been earlier. The third had moved in on his left, trying to flank him again. Their approach was clearly patterned and practiced.

"Enough talk," the left one growled. "Let's finish him."

The blood-red blade sprang to life on his left and lunged into Obi-Wan's sphere of light. Floating backward at the last second on the wings of the Force, he slashed his blade above the attacking weapon, meeting fleshy resistance for only an instant.

A soft thud, and the left one's head rolled to a halt at Obi-Wan's feet. Its deactivated lightsaber clanked to the ground a moment later followed by the dull thud of the rest of its corpse.

Obi-Wan glanced at the body, and then looked up toward where he sensed the dismay of the left's companions. "End this now, before anyone else has to die."

"Fool!" the baritone voice raged. "You're the only one who will die!!"

Two more scarlet beams burned through the darkness and rushed in.

Obi-Wan planted his feet, and sank into the Force.

Rock and stone suddenly exploded all around them, a stray boulder crashing into one attacker, instantly crushing his skull.

The other, stunned for an instant by the unexpected barrage, was heaved from his feet and smashed hard against a granite support beam in the ceiling. The sound of his lifeless form crashing to the ground was drowned out by the din of falling rocks.

Ambient light from outside flooded the dark chamber, obscured only by atomized dust and crumbling stone.

Knocked to the ground by the explosion, Obi-Wan pushed himself slowly to stand up. "Took you long enough," he groaned. "I was beginning to think you were losing your touch."

Anakin's firm grip circled his elbow and pulled him to his feet. "I didn't exactly do it alone," he grinned.

Luke appeared beside his father, a small smile playing across his lips. "Are you all right, Uncle Obi?"

Obi-Wan widened his eyes, appraising the youth. "None the worse for wear, my boy. Thank you."

A frozen surge in the Force swept through the trio.

"What?" Obi-Wan spun around, checking the motionless figures. "I don't…"

Anakin's eyes went wide. "No!! _Padmé!_"

In a flash, he was gone.

* * *

They stepped through the doorway with elegant strides. Dressed from head to toe entirely in black, only the dark brown skin surrounding their bright yellow eyes visible, they moved with a deathly grace. Each one rotated his head, surveying the room before focusing their attention on Leia.

"Hello, little one," the one in the middle said, a smile beneath his mask evident in his tone.

Leia glanced at their hands. The two that flanked the one who had spoken held the tell-tale chrome hilts of lightsabers. The other—the leader, Leia surmised—held a dull metal sword at his side.

The one on Leia's right pointed silently at where Padmé hid. Two moved as one. The other with the metal sword angled it across his body.

"You'll have to forgive me, child," he whispered, "but I cannot permit you to interfere."

"You'll find that interfering is what I do," Leia replied, her jaw set.

From the corner of her eye, Leia saw the other two assailants ignite their blades. She moved toward her opponent in a flash, her lightsaber arced high.

Padmé let loose a shower of bolts at her attackers, each deflected deftly with smooth strokes.

Leia's adversary blinked, and then slipped to the side, her attack missing him by centimeters. He brought his sword up and sliced it through Leia's lightsaber blade.

Abject horror gripped her chest as the weapon fizzled in her hand and died.

She barely felt the crushing blow that clashed against her skull from the hilt of metal sword.

"You are a worthy fighter, child," she heard as blood soaked her hair and she fell to her knees. "This cortosis blade is a sign of respect. I hope one day you will come to realize this."

Pain.

Her head hit the cold, durasteel floor. Tears flowed into blood and rolled down her cheek. The distant sound of blaster fire filled the air.

"I promise you, your mother will not suffer…"

Black.

* * *

**Author's note:** For those of you unfamiliar with the cortosis blade, cortosis is a rare metal highly resistant to particle-energy weapons (such as blasters and lightsabers) and causes a lightsaber to temporarily short out, introduced in The Dark Horse Comics during a battle between Vader and a band of Jedi. It also figures prominently in the new novel Darth Bane: Path to Destruction, by Drew Karpyshyn.


	10. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 5, Part II

**Author's note: **Sorry it's been so long since my last update, but I was busy doing Christmas. :p

This chapter might be a bit hard to follow, but I have confidence in you all that you'll get what I'm trying to do here. There are a series of flashbacks and a whole bunch of flashes of visions about what's going on in the present as well. I'm interested to know if it "works". Thanks again for your continued support and I hope you all had a great Christmas. :D

**Chapter 5**

…**Do Us Part, Part II**

The sound of gravel crunched in rhythmic beats as Obi-Wan poured everything he had into his legs to try and catch up with Anakin who moments before had disappeared into the residential complex. Several meters ahead of him, Luke accelerated. Within moments, Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself all alone on the unpaved path. Biting back a growing sense of dread that was opening into a chasm in the pit of his stomach, he marshaled his will and opened himself as fully to the Force as he could.

Then his world exploded.

Suddenly completely out of control, Obi-Wan tumbled painfully across stone and dirt. Shards of rock and broken stumps tore through his robes, ripping at his skin and piercing his flesh. He crashed against the gnarled trunk of a nearby tree, his mind barely registering the pain as his ribs snapped and blood began to seep into his lungs. Unbidden tears flowed from his battered right eye, mixing with sweat and blood that flowed from a gash across his forehead. Blackness nipped at the edges of his consciousness.

But the Force would not let him slip into peaceful oblivion.

The Force was aflame.

Abject horror and pain lashed against Obi-Wan's mental shields, lancing mercilessly into his psyche. Memories long forgotten exploded in a volatile eruption, past and present merging and falling into an abyss of cacophonous woe.

"_Master Obi-Wan, a word with you, please." _

_Obi-Wan glanced over at Yoda and noticed, not for the first time, that the Jedi Master's ears drooped low. They had remained that way ever since he had declared the beginning of the Clone Wars. _

_The difference in Yoda's demeanor was probably imperceptible to those who did not know him well. He sat on the same maroon hassock in the Jedi Temple, quiet and contemplative as always. His movements were just as slow and deliberate as they had been when Obi-Wan first learned to hold a lightsaber. _

_But gone was the childlike effervescence that Obi-Wan loved so much. No longer could a laugh be heard just beneath the surface of every sentence Yoda uttered. Weighed down by the practically unfathomable responsibility of leading the Jedi Order during a war they were never meant to fight, the twinkle in Yoda's eyes had long been extinguished. Now, behind those bulbous green orbs that were fixed so intently on Obi-Wan, was nothing but sadness._

Charred durasteel.

Leia, unconscious and bloodied.

Dark-skinned warriors strewn about, smoking holes gaping from their chests.

Crimson gore.

"_What is it, Master?"_

_Before the words left his mouth, Obi-Wan knew that it was about Anakin. Yoda's ears drooped lower still, the tips touching his hunched shoulders on his miniature frame._

"_Suspected, I did, that you did not know," Yoda whispered. "Protected from it, you must have been."_

_Obi-Wan searched the Force for an answer, but none came. "Protected from what, Master Yoda?"_

_For a long time, Yoda said nothing. He simply sat on his hassock, distractedly drawing invisible circles on the granite floor with the tip of his gimer stick. Having learned patience over the years training Anakin, Obi-Wan did not push. Instead, he quietly lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged next to Yoda, looking at the tired green Jedi Master expectantly. _

_The last vestiges of Coruscant's sunlight vanished before Yoda spoke again. When he did, Obi-Wan did not know how to respond._

"_Gone, Skywalker's mother is," Yoda had sighed at last. "Lost to us all, he may well be."_

The distant sound of gravel crunching beneath a hurried sprint worked its way through the thunderous pounding in Obi-Wan's head. Reflexively, he twisted his head toward the noise. A blinding white jolt of agony shot up along his spine and exploded behind his eyes, blanking out everything.He tried to call on the Force to dull the pain but, though the Force roiled and seethed all around him, he could not touch it. Unsure what was real and what was a vision from the past or the present, Obi-Wan leaned his head back gingerly on the sturdy tree trunk.

"Obi-Wan! Are you all right?"

The voice was deep, resonant. It sounded familiar, but Obi-Wan could not place it. He could not turn his head to see. His eyes were slowly sealing shut as broken blood vessels bloated his face. Obi-Wan peered through them while he still could and glimpsed the kneeling form of his companion. A dreadlocked Jedi. Obi-Wan struggled to remember who he was. _Ah…Vos. _

"By the Force…." The horror in Vos' voice confirmed what Obi-Wan suspected. He did not look good. "…I…can't help you, Obi-Wan. I…I can't touch the Force!"

It wasn't clear to Obi-Wan if Quinlan was more horrified by his lost connection with the Force, or by the fact that Obi-Wan's body was completely shattered and neither of them had the power to save him. In the end, he decided that it didn't matter. He had to get through to Quinlan before it was too late.

His lungs screaming in protest, Obi-Wan sucked in a shallow, ragged breath. "Bac…ta…"

"_I don't…understand," Obi-Wan stammered. "Why would he not tell me?"_

"_Search your feelings, Obi-Wan," Yoda replied with far more empathy that Obi-Wan had thought possible. "Know the answer, you do."_

_Obi-Wan swallowed and looked inward. For years the Force had been clouded in a blanket of darkness, growing more and more dense and impenetrable every day. Ironically, he had only found complete clarity where he least expected it—during the heat of battle and…when connecting with Anakin through the Force. As he searched out that powerful link that connected him so strongly to his padawan, Obi-Wan frowned. Nothing. His pulse suddenly pounded loudly against his ear. The longer he sought Anakin out, the more desperately he searched. The more desperately he searched, the more hopeless he felt._

"_Master…"_

"_Cut himself off from you, he has," Yoda explained, his voice gravely but firm. "When his mother died, deep in mediation, I was. Gripped by the dark side, young Skywalker became..."_

_For several more minutes, Yoda spoke quietly with sorrow punctuating every word. He whispered of the rage Anakin had poured forth onto the Tatooine desert sands. Leaving no detail unsaid, Yoda related through gritted teeth, as if recalling some painful memory, how Obi-Wan's young padawan had massacred every living creature in the camp of nomads that had captured his mother. Merciless murder. Cauterized stumps of headless corpses barely falling to the ground before another terrified victim of Anakin's rage had been hacked to pieces. _

"_Suspect, I do," Yoda finished, "that shielded by Dooku's Force-prison, you were. Had you not been, through your bond with him, young Skywalker's rage would have done you much harm."_

_And then, there was silence._

Even without the Force, Quinlan Vos was a powerful man. After warding off Quinlan's entirely appropriate concerns about moving him in his state, Obi-Wan focused on shutting down the pain receptors in his mind.

It was a technique he and several other Jedi generals had been taught during the early days of the Clone Wars. They were taught these techniques, Mace Windu had told them, to maximize their ability to resist torture should they ever be captured and held in a Force-nullifying environment. At the time, Obi-Wan had considered the lessons a disturbing turn in events for the Jedi Order. It had seemed like yet another step closer toward the stereotype that had pervaded the common thinking about the Jedi— that they were cold, passionless, and unfeeling. But when Quinlan hoisted him over his broad shoulders and began the trek to the MedLab, clearly doing his best to minimize jostling as they moved over the uneven earth, Obi-Wan silently thanked the Force for what he had learned.

Although he could not completely dull the fiery surges of agony that shot from his spine, arm and ribs as broken bones shifted with every step that Vos took, Obi-Wan was able to remain conscious throughout the seemingly eternal journey. Of course, slumped across Vos' shoulder, unable to lift his head and barely able to see out his swollen eyes, Obi-Wan began to wonder if remaining conscious was a blessing or a curse.

"Stay awake back there," Vos grunted, as if reading his mind. Given the psychometric abilities of the Kiffar Jedi Master, it wasn't out of the question. "You're going into shock. Your hands and feet are going to feel very cold soon. Don't be alarmed. That's just your body trying to move your blood to your core functions."

Absently, Obi-Wan realized that his hands and feet were, indeed cold and he was already beginning to shiver. He knew that Vos was simply trying to keep him conscious just to ensure that he didn't slip into a coma. Resolving to accept his conscious if painful state, Obi-Wan focused his attention on the white gravel along the ground that jostled beneath Quinlan's boots.

Suddenly Quinlan came to a halt. Obi-Wan was confused, knowing that the MedLab had to be several hundred more meters away. Aayla's panicked tone explained the premature stop immediately.

"Quin! The Force! I can't—"

"I know, Aayla!" Quinlan cut her off. His tone was all business. "We don't have time to worry about that now. Get to the MedLab and prepare a bacta tank."

"How…how bad?" The sudden drop in Aayla's tone made it clear that she had seen the answer for herself. A startled gasp escaped her lips.

"Bad. Now go."

As the sound of Aayla's feet racing away receded into the distance, Obi-Wan's mind reeled under another barrage of images. They were less disjointed than the earlier assault he'd experienced, though it still took a moment to orient himself to where and when he was.

He recognized the armory. Unable to tap into the Force to sense the truth of what he was seeing, Obi-Wan tried not to react to the lifeless assassins sprawled on the durasteel floor. Obi-Wan desperately wanted to see the rest of the room—to know what had happened there—but no matter how hard he tried; he could not control the vision.

In a flash, it dissolved again.

"Obi-Wan?" The voice sounded so distant. "Are you with me?"

"_Obi-Wan?"_

_Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin and smiled. "Sorry. I guess I was a bit distracted."_

"_You were light-years away, my friend," Anakin leaned back in the plush chair in Padmé's apartment, placing his hands behind his head and putting his feet on the vadorian crystal table with a smug grin on his face. "Thinking about that nice Corellian girl I introduced you to, aren't you?"_

"_What?" Obi-Wan frowned in confusion before recalling the lithe girl that Anakin had practically thrust into his arms the night before. "No. I was…never mind. What were we talking about?"_

"_You were telling me about Yavin IV and why you think it would be a good training site," Anakin replied, continuing to grin. "But no changing the subject. Where were you, if not contemplating that voluptuous vixen?"_

"_If you must know," Obi-Wan groaned, "I was thinking about Mace."_

_Anakin's smile faded and his eyes darkened. "What about him?"_

_Immediately Obi-Wan kicked himself inwardly. He hadn't wanted to broach the subject just yet. Then again, given how little time they were likely to have alone in the ensuing months, Obi-Wan decided it might be best not to delay further. The question was how best to proceed._

"_I was…" he began tentatively. "…thinking about how you insisted that we absolve Mace of his actions." Anakin leaned forward, his mouth open ready to object. "Now, I heard the reasoning you presented to the Council—that Mace was consumed by the dark side and that it affected his thinking—I even agreed with it, remember?"_

_Anakin narrowed his eyes. "Yes." He waited. "But…? I know there's a 'but', Obi-Wan. But what?"_

"_But it seems so…out of character for you."_

_Anakin frowned._

"_I thought the Jedi believed in forgiveness, Obi-Wan."_

"_We do, Anakin. That's my point. We do. But you, in all the time I've known you, do not. It's been something I felt I was never able to teach you."_

_A smile played across Anakin's lips. "Maybe I'm just a slow learner. Did you ever think of that?"_

"_No jokes, Anakin." Obi-Wan sat up straighter, and grew even more serious. _

_Anakin immediately recognized Obi-Wan's change in demeanor and sat up as well. "What do you want to ask me, Obi-Wan?"_

_Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and let it out. "Why?"_

_His best friend—his brother in every real way that mattered—stood up and walked toward the veranda. A moment later, Anakin turned around and crossed his arms. He took a deep breath and then fixed his gaze directly on Obi-Wan. "Because I've been there."_

_Relieved that he and Anakin were finally at a place in their relationship where they could discuss his experiences with the dark side, Obi-Wan nodded._

"_I think I understand."_

"_I think you understood before you asked, Obi-Wan," Anakin replied dryly. "So why don't you ask me what you really want to ask?"_

_Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin knew him too well for him to dance around any issue. "I need to know why you never told me about Tatooine, Anakin. I need to know why I didn't hear about it from you until you spoke to the Council."_

_Anakin sighed. "All right, Obi-Wan. You deserve to know." He walked back to Obi-Wan and dropped into the seat across from him. "I was afraid."_

_Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for several moments. It was quite an admission for Anakin—one that Obi-Wan never expected to hear. He drew in a deep breath, and pushed on. "Afraid that I would reject you?"_

"_Maybe…" Anakin shook his head. "No. Not really. I think I always knew that you would forgive me, even if the Council would not."  
_

"_Then…?"_

"_Obi-Wan, when I…gave in to my rage, I became horrifyingly powerful. It…it was if the Force would do anything I wanted. Many of the Raiders I killed died before I ever touched them with a lightsaber. I…I just willed it, and they died."_

_Obi-Wan frowned. "But this has always been the promise of the dark side, Anakin. I don't understand—"_

"_This is unlike anything I've ever even heard of, Obi-Wan!" Anakin stood again and began to pace. "I was projecting my rage everywhere, even without trying! It drove the Raiders mad. I could feel their grief at my mother's loss as acutely as I felt it myself. At the time, it was exhilarating. It was what I wanted. I wanted them to feel my pain." He stopped and looked at Obi-Wan, his eyes suddenly red. "But when they were all dead, when I could no longer feel their grief, all I felt was terror."_

"_A fear that you carried with you for years?"_

_Anakin nodded._

"_A fear that if you lose control, you'll hurt the rest of us?"_

_Anakin shook his head. "No. The fear that if I lose control, everyone around me will feel what I feel."_

"_I think I see your point…"  
_

"_No, Obi-Wan. I don't think you do. Imagine how dangerous the Jedi Order would become if you were all driven mad by my emotions! Imagine if you all felt my grief—my rage."_

"_I don't think that would happen, Anakin."_

"_Well I could never risk it."_

_Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Anakin…do you still worry about this?"_

"_Wouldn't you?"_

Obi-Wan awoke to see slightly viscous translucent fluid flowing around him. No longer saddled with debilitating pain, he realized at once that the bacta had mended a majority of his wounds. His arm and ribs still ached, but otherwise he felt fine. How long had he been in the tank? What had happened? What was happening?

He opened his eyes and saw Luke sitting on a stool in front of the transparisteel that formed the cylinder of the bacta tank. Even through the distortion of the fluid, Obi-Wan could see that Luke's eyes were blotched and swollen, his shoulders hunched under an incredible emotional weight.

Dropping to the bottom of the tank, Obi-Wan pushed himself upward and then activated the release at the top. As he crawled onto the receiving platform, pulled the respirator from his face, and looked down at his padawan, Luke barely lifted his head and attempted a weak smile.

"Obi-Wan." Luke's voice was dead and uneven. "Good to see you're feeling better."

Obi-Wan looked around, trying to focus but feeling completely disoriented. "How…long …" his throat was dry and his voice cracked. As he tried to swallow, his lungs erupted in a fit of coughing.

"Three days," Luke answered. He looked back to the floor. "Obi-Wan…"

Something was wrong.

Luke was normally extremely attentive. It was completely unlike the young man not to at least offer him a towel. What was happening? The need to know became desperate. Obi-Wan tried to consult the Force but it remained just as maddeningly distant as it had been—three days ago? A thousand questions bounced around in his head like ricocheting blaster-fire. But one emerged as more important than all the rest.

"Padmé?"

Tears streamed down Luke's face and his shoulders began to shake violently as he sobbed. Immediately recognizing the source of Luke's grief, Obi-Wan swallowed the bile that suddenly rose in his throat. He would allow himself to grieve later.

"Anakin?"

Luke suddenly glared up at Obi-Wan, his tear-stained face contorted in rage, but he said nothing.

Again, Obi-Wan looked around the stark room, knowing there were no answers there. A growing sense of foreboding burgeoned in his chest. He jumped down off the platform, wincing as his feet crashed against the durasteel, and grabbed Luke's shoulders. He pulled the boy from the stool and pulled Luke's face close to his.

"Where is Anakin?"

Fire burned behind Luke's eyes. "Gone."


	11. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 6, Part I

**Author's note: My apologies to all of you for the long delay. I've had a lot going on and haven't had a chance to update. Anyway, here you go. Next part will be up in a week. Hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 6**

**Loss, Part I**

The Moonrise Club appeared deserted save for the small green creature who sat in the shadowed corner of the main room. His eyes were closed tightly; his face slightly contorted in apparent concentration.

The tables, normally littered with left-over scraps of cuisine and covered in glass mugs filled to the brim with exotic ales from around the galaxy, were pristine now that the suns had risen. Chairs, usually unnoticed by the patrons save for when there were none available, were neatly stacked along the walls to allow the cleaning droids room to do their work. At the front and rear entrances, well-trained assassins stood guard inconspicuously, blending into the local riffraff while serving as a failsafe for the multilayered automatic protection systems that the diminutive owner had set in place.

Nothing moved in the tavern.

Faint shafts of light from the breaking dawn danced down through the single skylight at the top of the domed ceiling, providing the only illumination to the room while casting every corner and crevice in blackness. Nestled quietly in one of those corners, Shinn steadied his breathing.

He found it odd that Broga hadn't called on him to come out yet. The little creature had an annoying habit of never being surprised, no matter how effective Shinn was at avoiding detection by everyone and everything else. He took great pride in his skills at subterfuge and the notion that Broga was someone that that he couldn't sneak up on at will always bothered him. Still, he'd learned from personal experience that Broga valued his privacy. Interrupting the boss' quiet moments always ended badly for the person doing the interrupting.

Broga opened his eyes and drew his eyebrows together.

Shinn held his breath and waited.

His eyes darting around furtively, Broga looked, for the first time that Shinn could recall, unsure. "Who is there?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern with it. "Come out, or discover for myself, who you are, I will, after examining your dead body."

Shinn pushed himself out of the corner and stepped into the center of the room, allowing the weak sunlight from the ceiling to light his features. He raised both of his hands in the air while casting a careful glance toward the front and rear entrances. Satisfied that no blaster-toting guards were on their way, he relaxed.

"I thought for a moment there that you forgot we had an appointment," Shinn smiled.

Broga didn't return the smile. He simply sighed. "What news, have you?"

Recognizing that his employer was in no mood for small talk, Shinn got straight to the point. "Windu and Harm have Solo and the Wookie."

The boss' face was unreadable. For several moments he just stared at Shinn expectantly. Shinn had learned over the years not to volunteer information, regardless of who was doing the asking. Broga eventually sighed and picked up a data pad that had lain next to his hand. He tapped it on the table thoughtfully before using a long fingernail to manipulate the screen.

"Two thousand credits," he said, and then looked back at Shinn. "Go on."

Shinn grinned. "From what I can tell, Windu just walked in and demanded that Jabba turn Solo and the Wookie over to him. As you might guess, Jabba didn't exactly take too kindly to the request and tried to kill Windu."

Broga leaned back and brought a finger to his chin, but said nothing.

"The rest of the story sounds a bit…far-fetched." Shinn shrugged. "All I know for sure is that Jabba the Hutt is dead, as is the leadership of his organization. Windu left the palace without a scratch on him, taking the Wookie, Solo and that Twi'lek girl you told me to get Harm and Jor to harass."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Apparently the girl helped Windu in there. Story goes that Windu was in the middle of dismantling the last of Jabba's guards when he just dropped to his knees. Two guards started pummeling him and it looked like Windu was done for. Just as one of them was about to kill the old guy, the Twi'lek girl blasted one of them in the back. Apparently that was all Windu needed because he then went on to put that purple lightstick of his away and started beating everybody left in the place with his bare hands. Word is that Windu dropped Jabba down into a hidden pit under the floor and Jabba got eaten by his own rancor."

"Interesting…" Broga leaned forward. "What of Harm?"

"Oh! You'll love this!" Shinn laughed. "Windu started out by offering Harm up to Jabba in exchange for Solo and the Wookie. This guy is definitely not a Jedi. Harm ended up getting thrown in a cell with Solo during the whole fight."

"Indeed." Broga tapped his fingernail on the tabletop absentmindedly. "When did all this happen?"

"About three days ago."

"Where are they now?"

"Jabba's people destroyed Harm's ship when Windu and Harm originally went into the palace, I'm told. They either took one of Jabba's speeders or they're walking here. Either way, it's a long trek."

Broga leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He screwed up his face again as if focusing all his attention on….something. After a few tense moments, he opened his eyes again and grunted through thinned lips.

"Go, you may," Broga whispered. "Good work, you have done. Stay clear of Windu and his group. Deal with them from here on out, I will."

* * *

The early morning sun of Yavin IV glared through the conference room window and glinted off the brilliant polished burgundy finish of the conference table. Obi-Wan sat in his high-backed wooden chair, carefully studying each person seated with him with a mixture of concern and sorrow.

Luke and Leia sat directly across from Obi-Wan and next to each other. Although both twins' grief was obvious, they could not possibly have expressed it more differently. While Leia seemed to be fighting any outward signs of misery, Luke seemed almost to wallow in it.

Dark circles had formed around Leia's eyes, which only served to accentuate the ashen tone of her normally bright features. She held her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Most of her normally well-kept hair was now bunched at the back of her head, while the rest hung loosely down her shoulders in a haphazard fashion. Despite these outward signs, Leia sat straight at the table, her shoulders back and her eyes forward, though she looked at nothing in particular. In fact, her vacant gaze seemed to be directed somewhere past Obi-Wan's head and into another galaxy.

Luke sat hunched in his chair, somehow managing to sink nearly a head beneath his sister. He gently drummed the fingers of his right hand on the solid wood table, while absently scratching the same table with the fingernails of his other hand. His face was flushed red and small lines creased his forehead. His bright blue eyes seemed to have lost their luster, appearing almost gray when shadowed by the sunlight behind him. Most unsettling to Obi-Wan was the deep scowl that was etched into the boy's face. His eyebrows were drawn tightly together, and every few moments his upper lip would lift at the corner slightly, giving Obi-Wan a glimpse of the young man's gritted teeth.

Valorum and his aide, both of whom Obi-Wan had thought long gone when he emerged from his three-day bacta tank excursion, sat next to Luke. The aide, who Obi-Wan had thought appeared almost preternaturally confident when he had first met her shifted frequently in her chair as if unsure of where she was or what she should be doing. She frequently glanced over at Luke, alternating between watching his fingers' play on the table surface and looking directly at his face. If Luke noticed her at all, he didn't show it.

Ex-Chancellor Valorum, on the other hand, sat stoically upright, his wrinkled features frustratingly unreadable. Aayla sat next to him, equally impassive, the occasional twitch of her left lekku the only sign that she was even slightly perturbed. Valorum looked up and down the table at the other masters of the Jedi Council, and then looked back at Obi-Wan with a raised brow.

Bereft of his ability to perceive through the Force, Obi-Wan wasn't confident about what the silent gesture might have meant. But as he looked out at the other twenty or so Jedi masters and padawans that stood along the wall, shadowed by the sunlight to their backs, it became abundantly clear.

The ad hoc seating arrangements for their impromptu meeting had placed Obi-Wan squarely on one side of the room by himself, with Valorum and the members of the Jedi Order on Yavin IV on the other. They all watched him warily…expectantly. With dizzying intensity, it suddenly struck Obi-Wan that, with Anakin gone[ihe[/i was the de facto head of the Jedi Order. They were looking to him for guidance—for leadership.

The only problem was, Obi-Wan felt more lost than any of them. At least they knew what had happened over the past three days.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The sudden sound caught everyone's attention. It was only after he'd made it that Obi-Wan realized how deathly quiet the room had been. Frowning inwardly, Obi-Wan decided that no one was going to speak until he did. He had so many questions running around in his head that he didn't know where to start. After contemplating that particular dilemma for several long moments, he decided to start by addressing who was missing.

"Where is Vos?" he asked, looking directly at Aayla.

Aayla returned his gaze, her face betraying nothing of how she felt about the question. The powerful twitch in both her lekku, however, was telling. "He left almost immediately after you stabilized in the bacta tank."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

"No," Aayla replied, her lekku steadying themselves. "But I know his mission. During the attack, the Sith Holocrons were stolen. The entire cache is gone. Quinlan has gone in search of them."

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "Damn!" He glanced over at Luke and Leia, carefully watching them as he set aside the question of Vos to address his more pressing concerns. "What are we doing about Padmé?"

Valorum spoke up. "The Senate has formally requested that the Jedi Order transport her remains back to Naboo for a State funeral."

Luke erupted into open sobs, but only silent tears trailed down Leia's face. She clenched her jaw several times before wiping the stray tears away and turning to look directly at Obi-Wan.

"Luke and I will go to the funeral," she announced, her voice wavering slightly. "Afterwards, I will go with Mr. Valorum to Coruscant where I will make a formal request for the Order to be granted nomad nation status."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "What? Leia, now is not the time for—"

"It's the [ionly[/i time, Master!" Leia snapped. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a breath. "I realize that you're playing catch up, Master, but the fact is that every Jedi we've been able to contact is experiencing the same interruption in his ability to touch the Force as we are here." She paused briefly and let the words hang in the air. "The Jedi Order can no longer rely on the Force to protect us."

Obi-Wan slumped back into his chair. "[iEvery[/i…Jedi…?"

"As I see it, we have only two choices now," Leia continued. "We can either disband the Order or seek the protection of the Republic."

"But…" Obi-Wan's mind reeled. "How…? Is…that even…possible?"

"Get over it, Uncle Obi!" Luke snapped, smashing his fists against the table. "It's gone! Accept it!" He stood up, his chair screeching against the floor as he pushed it back, and glared at Obi-Wan. "This meeting is pointless! We need to be out finding the kraffers that killed Manu!"

Aayla's padawan, Shinah, slipped from the crowd behind Luke and placed a hand on his shoulder. He tried to shrug her off, but she held him firmly. She leaned forward and whispered quietly in his ear. After a moment, Luke nodded quietly and sat back down, looking no less angry.

After an uncomfortable silence, Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked at Valorum. "What does the Senate know of this?"

"Nothing, right now," Valorum replied. "But there is no way to hide something as widespread and significant as this, Master Kenobi. There are numerous Jedi on missions right now who have been stripped of all their powers."

"That's not entirely true," Aayla spoke up. "Here, we've been able to regain a muted connection to the Force. Our influence is significantly limited, but we're not completely incapacitated."

It was all too much. Obi-Wan stood up. All other questions would have to wait. He looked around at the gathered Jedi and realized that what he had to do would leave them feeling abandoned and leaderless during a time when they most needed guidance.

They would have to find a way.

"We have more questions than answers," Obi-Wan announced. "I'm sorry for that. I have no clear path for any of you." He moved around the table and walked into the midst of the throng of Jedi, taking each of them in as he spoke. "But I do know what [imy[/i path is."

"Master Kenobi…" Aayla turned and stood.

Obi-Wan raised his palm. "Master Secura will lead the Council while I am gone," he said firmly. "Each of you must follow the path that you find before you. I will follow mine." He turned and walked to toward the door.

Korto reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan's elbow. "Where are you going?"

"Korto!" Aayla yelled. Korto responded immediately and let go of Obi-Wan.

"It's all right, Aayla," Obi-Wan smiled weakly. He looked at the group. "I'm going to find Anakin."

Without another word, Obi-Wan left the room, and the Jedi Order, behind.


	12. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 6, Part II

**Chapter 6**

**Loss, Part II**

A gentle gust of wind blew across Harm's sweat-drenched face, bringing a welcome respite from the oppressive heat produced by Tatooine's twin suns high in the desert sky. But before he could begin to truly relish the relief, the breeze flagged. The wave of suffocating dry air that swarmed back in was so hot that Harm was confident that his sweat was boiling on his skin.

He started to voice yet another complaint when he glanced over at the Wookiee. The creature's long fur clung to his skin, matted with sweat. Harm could only imagine how uncomfortable the creature must be, covered from head to toe as he was in insulating hair and walking for tens of kilometers across the fiery hot sand dunes barefoot while carrying the largest load of their supplies. And yet the massive creature didn't make a sound. He walked with his head unbowed, his dark eyes shining brightly, and his protruded jaw set with clear determination.

Shaking his head in amazement, Harm grabbed the canteen from his waist and took a small sip. He was hooking it back onto his belt when the container was ripped out of his grip. Harm stood in shock as he watched Solo take a long series of gulps. Before Harm could close his mouth, Solo finished drinking, pushed the canteen into Harm's chest and walked away.

"Hey Windu!" Solo called out to the Korun who moved slowly but deliberately across the sand ahead of them. Windu kept walking. "Hey! I'm talking to you."

Windu stopped at the top of a dune and scanned the horizon, placing a hand above his eyes to block the glare of the suns.

Lyn Me, who had somehow managed to keep up with Windu throughout their trek, turned and glared at Solo. True to form, Solo ignored her completely and stalked in front of Windu.

He thrust a pointed finger into Windu's chest, going nose-to-nose with him. "You mind telling us what the hell we're doing out here?"

Windu held Solo's gaze for several seconds, and then looked down at Solo's outstretched finger with a raised brow. Harm grinned inwardly as he waited for Solo to back down. The smuggler did not.

"What's that supposed to be?" Solo laughed, the corner of his mouth twisting upward. "Some kind of Jedi hocus pocus intimidation trick?"

The two men stared at each other for a long moment—Windu steely-eyed and stern; Solo with that stupid lop-sided grin plastered on his face. Then there was a blur of motion.

From what Harm could reconstruct, Windu had wrapped his large hand around Solo's outstretched finger and twisted it to the side. The smuggler's cry of surprise as he was flipped onto his back into the sand was cut off by Windu's outstretched boot being pressed against his neck.

To his credit, Solo seemed to instantly size up the situation. He smiled up at Windu, this time with a menacing twinkle in his eye. "You don't want to do that, buddy."

Windu frowned.

Solo dropped his head back onto the sand and put his hands behind it as if he were lying on a Psamtik beach. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

The sudden roar from the Wookie was all the warning Windu got before he was hoisted high in the air above Chewbacca's head. Solo was up in a flash, a determined look on his face, while Windu struggled in the mighty beast's hands.

"Now, where were we?" Solo said as he turned his back to Windu with a hand on his chin as if trying to remember. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers with a flourish. "I remember now!" He turned around and glared at Windu, who had stopped twisting and had relaxed into the Wookiee's hold as if he were in the most natural position in the galaxy. Harm couldn't quite figure out how Windu did it, but the man managed to pull it off. "You were going to tell me why we left my ship back at Jabba's palace to walk out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Put him down."

Everyone—Harm included—turned his head in Lyn Me's direction. She stood three meters away from Chewbacca with a blaster pointed squarely at the creature's back. Chewbacca glanced from Lyn to Solo as if looking for direction. Solo glared at Lyn Me.

"Now!" she ordered. She adjusted the power on the blaster, and the familiar whine of the power-up as the weapon settings changed from stun to kill broke through the silence.

Chewbacca looked back at Solo. The smuggler nodded with a frown. The Wookie roared in frustration and then threw Windu away with a powerful roar. The Korun twisted easily in the air and somehow managed to land on his feet, placing a hand into the sand to steady himself. He stood up to his full height and pulled his lightsaber from his belt, but did not activate it.

"I'll only say this once, so pay attention," he announced. "If you or your friend here ever lay a hand on me again, I will remove that hand…permanently."

Solo glanced over at Chewbacca, who roared at Windu with a raised fist.

"I'll take that as understanding." Windu replaced the lightsaber.

A chirping sound suddenly came from Windu's robe and he reached inside and pulled out a small device. Ignoring the rest of the group, he activated what was clearly a small holoreceiver. Broga's head emerged as a blue-tinted apparition, barely visible in the bright light from the suns.

"Good work you have done, Windu," Broga said. "Accomplished my aims, you have. Included in this message, the coordinates of your prize are."

Windu frowned but said nothing.

"Surmised by now, you have," Broga continued, "that I have no need for Solo or the Wookiee. When arrives, the opportunity does, dispose of them." There was a long pause. "Do not attempt to contact me again. Completed, our business is."

The transmission ended just as abruptly as it had begun.

Solo's mouth hung open. He looked over at Lyn Me, who still had her blaster pointed at him. "Now wait a minute," he said, raising his hands.

Windu studied a data pad to which he had obviously transferred the data from the holoreciever. His frown deepened.

"Damn!" he snapped. He looked back across the desert landscape they had walked and then twisted around to look ahead.

Lyn Me glanced over at him. "What is it?"

"I'd hoped I would be able to find it on my own," Windu growled. "I…I could feel it."

"Then what's wrong?"

Windu looked over at Solo and then back at Lyn. "According to these coordinates, we need to be on the other side of the planet."

The party went silent and Solo seemed to take that as his cue. "I'll give you a lift!" he announced. "The _Falcon_could get us there in no time."

Windu narrowed his eyes.

"Well," Solo smiled, "I think that's a better deal than you trying to kill me…"

Lyn Me looked over at Windu. Harm watched her for several long moments as the realization dawned on him that with her at Windu's side, the Korun wouldn't have much use for Harm before long. The only thing worse than being hated, Harm knew, was being insignificant.

"Solo's got a point," Harm agreed loudly. "I say we take him up on the offer. If he or the Wookiee get out of line, I can fly the ship just fine without them."

Windu looked back across the sandy dunes in silence as if deep in thought. Then without a word he started back, walking past Solo and then Harm without even glancing in their directions. He didn't look back once, stalking over a dune and slowly disappearing behind it.

"Was that his version of a yes?" Solo asked, looking at Harm quizzically.

"You get used to it after a while," Harm replied. Somehow Lyn Me had already passed by all of them and was disappearing behind the dune as well. Harm frowned. "Let's get going."

* * *

Luke stared out from the dais at the throng of people gathered around the platform with unseeing eyes. The platform on the Bridge of Fallen Tears in the center of Lake Theed was crowded on every side.

Hundreds of thousands of beings from every corner of the galaxy had gathered on the small planet to say goodbye to the former Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic as well as former Queen and Senator of Naboo, Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker. Senators and Governors, Kings and Queens, heads of corporations and Viceroys of federations had fought tooth and nail to be allowed the honor of joining Luke and Leia on the raised stage during the funeral. Twice the platform had been extended to accommodate the increasing numbers of honored guests. Luke and Leia had turned over the hassle of seating arrangements and seats of honor to Valorum and Mara Jade, both of whom had managed to make space for themselves despite the premium on space.

Valorum, Leia had informed Luke, had used positions on the stage as political bargaining chips, all but guaranteeing that the Jedi Order would be granted nomadic status when the motion was brought before the Senate. Luke didn't care. He had no intention of going to Coruscant with Leia once the funeral was over. He wanted nothing to do with any of the sycophants who had joined him on the dais.

Few, if any, of the people gathered there had even met his mother, let alone cared about her. They were nothing but political opportunists, using his mother's death to get their faces recorded in the archives. Luke swallowed the bile that lurched in his throat.

The whole debacle was pathetic and sad. But tears had long stopped falling for Luke. In the two standard weeks that had passed since Obi-Wan had left Yavin IV, Luke could not recall having a shed a single one. Whenever a surge of grief threatened to sting his sleep-deprived eyes, he would think of his missing father. He would think about Uncle Obi. He would think of the Force that had abandoned him. Then the grief would burn inside his chest in flames of welcome rage and the tears would dry up.

He clenched his fists tightly, grinding his teeth together as he fought to stop himself from screaming. Somehow he managed to hold himself together. The sudden, soothing touch of a warm hand on his brought the burgeoning fury to a halt. He looked over at Shinah, who looked into eyes with an empathetic smile. She placed her other hand on his cheek and held it there for a long moment before pushing a stray lock of Luke's hair behind his ear. She then turned back to face the crowd, leaving her hand atop his. Luke managed a weak smile, and leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax.

Once again he silently gave thanks for Shinah. She had arranged everything. As soon as the ceremony was over; as soon as Luke was free of the prying eyes of the HoloNet cameras and the RNet reporters, he and Shinah would lose themselves in the crowd. Then, with the transponder she had placed on Obi-Wan's ship as guide, Luke would go after his Master. One way or another, Luke intended to find his father. He wasn't sure what he would do once he found Teru. The only thing he was absolutely sure of was that find him, he would.

The quiet murmurs from the crowd died down and Luke turned his attention toward the podium. Leia stood there, dressed in the ornate gowns with her face painted white in keeping with the traditions of a Head of State from Naboo. That particular touch had been Valorum's idea. Leia had argued against it at first, frustrated at constantly being referred to as Princess Leia and not wanting to do anything to feed into that fantasy. But Valorum convinced her that failing to dress appropriately would likely create fodder for pundits during the debates in Senate.

Luke shook his head in disgust at the ridiculous show.

"My fellow members of the Republic," she began, her voice steady and firm. "Thank you all for taking time out of your busy lives to join my family in honoring the life of Padmé Amidala. To many of you, she was a great Queen and a powerful Senator. To even more of you, she was the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic—a woman who stood tall in the face of villainy and saved our democracy. But to us," she turned and waived her hand in the direction of Luke, "she was a mother…"

* * *

The blue-white clouds of hyperspace did not impress C-3PO. Over the years, he had come to accept space travel as an unavoidable but regular occurrence given the Maker's propensity for gallivanting across the galaxy on one mission or another. C-3PO never bothered paying attention to the scenery on those trips, but instead focused his attention on making sure that his master's needs were met during the trip and ensuring that he was fully versed on the customs of the culture they were visiting.

C-3PO had noticed over the years, however, that most humans rather enjoyed looking at the hyperspace clouds. Very few, no matter how experienced in space travel, could enter hyperspace and not marvel, on some level, at the swirling clouds. Master Ani seemed completely oblivious. To C-3PO's optical processing subroutines, Master Ani's face registered as deeply morose. Unclear of what might be causing such a feeling in his master, C-3PO naturally assumed he had done something wrong and set about trying to correct it.

"Master Ani," C-3PO said as he entered the cockpit of the small skiff, "Would you care for some refreshments?"

Anakin did not look up, his eyes never shifting from the glassy stare he had held for the last twenty-two thousand, four hundred and thirteen seconds. Threepio noted that Anakin had his dark cloak wrapped tightly around him, his face buried beneath his cowl.

Checking the temperature in the cockpit, Threepio grew concerned. "Perhaps I should have Artoo check the environmental controls, Master Ani. It is rather cold in here."

Threepio waited for four-point-two-two seconds and then turned to leave.

"Don't touch the systems," Anakin rasped.

Threepio recognized tension in Master Anakin's voice, but could not process why it might be there. "I'm sorry, Master, but I must insist. Why just the other day I was talking with Mistress Padmé—"

It took several seconds before he understood why his stabilizers had seemed to suddenly shut off while he was mid-sentence. He had to refocus his optical sensors to see Master Anakin standing above him, his lips curled into what Threepio recognized as a snarl.

"Don't you ever!" Anakin roared. "Don't…you…"

He did not finish, instead dropping onto the floor and putting his hands in his face, sobbing loudly. It took several awkward moments for Threepio to finally push himself up into a seated position. During that time, he partitioned a portion of his processing power to attempting to decipher what had caused Anakin to react the way he had. In Threepio's experience, Master Skywalker normally went to great lengths to at least appear civil to everyone, even to him and Artoo—something that no other human other than Mistress Padmé and their children were inclined to do.

"Master Ani," Threepio ventured, "Have I done something wrong?"

Anakin looked up at Threepio, his eyes red and his face covered in tears. He wiped his face slowly and offered what was clearly a strained smile. "No, Threepio…" he croaked. "…I'm…I'm sorry. I…I just need to be alone…"

"Understood, Sir," Threepio replied, as he grabbed a nearby conduit and pulled himself up. Once he was steady on his feet, Threepio glanced around the skiff cockpit and back at Anakin. "Perhaps I should pilot for you so you can get some rest in your cabin. What is our destination, Sir?"

Anakin stood. "No, Threepio," he replied as he pushed by the droid. "I'm fine. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Very well, Master Anakin." Threepio shuffled out the cockpit. He stopped at the door. "Where [i_are[/i_ we going, Master Ani?"

Anakin looked out the transparisteel window for fourteen-point-nine-eight seconds. His lips thinned and he drew his eyebrows tightly together.

"We going to find some people, Threepio," Anakin whispered.

"Who?"

"The people who took my life away." Anakin sat down at the controls and brought up the navigation controls. Threepio focused his sensors on the destination marker. He did not recognize the Geonosis system, but assumed that the people Master Ani was referring to lived there.

"What will we do when we get there, Sir?"

Anakin turned in his seat and stared at Threepio with a look in his eye that Threepio's internal processors identified as sinister. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped an octave.

"I'll return the favor."


	13. Interlude

**Author's note: This is a short update. It marks a significant shift in events so I thought I'd go ahead and warn you. ****When we pick back up with Chapter 7, a year will have passed and a lot of things will have happened that I won't directly address. Hope you're continuing to enjoy!**

* * *

_**Interlude...**_

_Death can be beautiful.  
_

_The soulless star, burning its fuel with increasing gluttony, knows nothing of its inevitable demise. It gorges on itself, burning brightly to all that can see it—a beacon of light surrounded by the cold darkness of space. Planets seek out the star, relishing its warmth and basking in its splendor. _

_But deep in the heart of that brilliance, the plot for its murder is underway. Metals form and seek each other out. Cold, dark blemishes take shape and lie in wait. _

_The star remains blissfully unaware. Where the dark spots slow its burning radiance, the star grows brighter and expands, consuming itself with even more vigor than before._

_And the star grows._

_As it becomes bloated by its own power, the star does not notice that it is losing its luster. It does not realize that it is no longer as bright a beacon as it once was. It ignores the burning hulks of planets that once worshiped it. All that matters is that the great behemoth grows._

_All the while, the dark conspirators grow and coalesce. All the while, they work in the cold shadows within the leviathan's core pushing here and tarnishing there. More and more join the darkness—born in a culture of growth, it is only natural that they would be seduced by the rapidly growing corruption. And then…_

_Revolution._

* * *

She stared at the blood-encrusted cortosis blade through narrowed eyes. The dull metal, blotched with dark red evidence of its recent use, contrasted starkly against the brilliant obsidian table on which it lay. Across the table, kneeling on the durasteel floor, Xander's head remained dutifully bowed.

"This is not her head," Ventress hissed.

Not unlike a clone, Xander remained still. It was only when he spoke that Asajj detected a hint of the rage he must have been feeling. "It is not. Nor will you have it. To defile her in that way would have been…dishonorable." He inhaled through his teeth. "Her blood will have to be evidence enough for you."

"Rise!" she snarled.

Xander stood. He moved with an elegant grace that impressed Ventress yet again. He leveled his gaze on her, openly staring at her with cold brown eyes. It would have been a stretch to call the Korun male handsome by her standards, given his angular features, and deep, inset eyes that seemed forever cast in shadow by his large brow. He towered above most of the crew, standing just over two meters in height. That, combined with his broad shoulders, was probably the reason so many of the female officers gravitated toward him. Inwardly, she chastised herself for allowing him to disarm her anger with a simple look.

"You deliberately disobeyed my orders!"

"No, I did not," Xander replied smoothly, his face calm. "I modified them based on the situation. She killed two of my brothers in a hail of blaster fire. She even managed to shoot me before I got to her." He closed his eyes briefly, a small smile playing at the corners of his full lips, as if he were relishing the memory. "Hers was an honorable death." He opened his eyes and focused again on Asajj. "I would not sully it for you or for anyone."

Ventress ground her teeth together. She wanted to lash out with Force. She wanted to grab the insolent fool by his throat and watch his body go limp as he hung in the air, thrashing and gnawing at the invisible power with which she held him. The fact that she no longer could infuriated her even more.

For a brief moment she considered lashing out with her lightsaber, but quickly discarded the thought. With her powers gone, she could no longer feel the blade sing in her hands. She would be unable to sense its weight or balance its movements. Xander's observant eyes would immediately be able to discern her weakness and he would exploit it. No…it was best to carry on the charade.

"I must mediate!" she snapped. "Leave!"

Xander merely raised and eyebrow before nodding curtly. "Of course."

He turned slowly and deliberately, walking with such graceful ease across the durasteel floor that his black boots barely made a sound. When the door hissed shut behind him, Ventress collapsed into her chair.

"Disaster…" she whispered, her head face falling into her hands.

A sudden cold whisked across the nape of her neck and she knew that she was no longer alone. At least she seemed to still have a connection with him. She sat up, straightening her back and smoothing the folds of her long black skirt.

"Master?"

_Asajj, this was no disaster,_ the voice whispered in the same, patient tone it always had. _This is a fantastic success!_

Asajj frowned. "But I am weakened, now," she insisted. "On the eve of our great movement, I am powerless."

_Indeed, my child. But so are the Jedi._

She felt her stomach lurch reflexively at their name as her eyes widened. "All of them?"

_Yes. They pose no threat to our plans._

Their conversations were always too brief. She did not want to waste the opportunity. "What of Skywalker?" The silence that followed felt like a compressor on her chest. "Master?"

_Skywalker is of no consequence._ The Master's tone was tight with irritation, though it somehow managed to maintain the musical baritone quality it always had. _The fool has renounced the Force in his grief. Now he hopes to exact revenge without it._

Asajj took a deep breath, wary of the consequences of disappointing The Master. "My Lord, even without his power, Skywalker is not to be underestimated—especially now that I, too, am weakened."

_He is nothing!_ A wind erupted around Asajj and slapped harshly against her skin. _He knows nothing. He will hunt you, though he does not know that you are his quarry. He will fail for that reason alone—he lacks knowledge. His failure to appreciate the value of accumulating knowledge will always be his greatest weakness._

Ventress bowed her head. "Yes, Master. I see that now."

The room went still for so long that Asajj was convinced that The Master had left. She reached out and fingered the caked blood on the cortosis blade. All preparations were complete. A devastating blow had been dealt against the Jedi, making them useless in the coming battle. The ineffective and corrupt Republic Senate would bow to her.

_Yes, my child…_ The Master whispered in her ear like an insistent lover. _It is time._


	14. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 7, Part I

**Chapter 7**

**Revolution, Part I**

"…_reports continue to stream in…"_

"_..attacks, once attributed to a lone terrorist, are now clearly the work of a powerful network of…"_

"…_further proof that the Supreme Chancellor's ineptitude in handling the situation is…"_

"_..Geonosis, Koru Nemodia, Metalorn, Ord Cestus. What do these planets have in common? There is a pattern to these attacks, people! And we must…"_

Wilhuff Tarkin sat in the center of his personal observation center, his back so rigidly straight that it barely made contact with the plush dewback leather chair. His elbows rested firmly on the ornate armrests which housed communications and operations controls for virtually every function on the massive battle station. From that single point, Tarkin had the power to annihilate an entire planet.

At the moment, however, the power at his command was the furthest thing from his mind. His fingers were steepled together, resting against his thin lips. The only part of the Grand Admiral's body that moved was the occasional shift of his eyes as he focused his specific attention from one to another of the twenty-two vidscreens that hung along the otherwise stark spheroid perimeter of the room. Each flatscan displayed HoloNet news and contemporary political talk programs from across the galaxy. Each one was focused almost exclusively on the biggest news story to hit the spacewaves since the first charges of corruption in Supreme Chancellor Amidala's office had emerged nearly a decade before.

"…_confirmed reports of a new attack on the major banking facilities at Muunilist. This attack came in the form of a massive electromagnetic pulse weapon that destroyed the entire banking infrastructure…"_

"…_once again, no credible group or individual has claimed responsibility…"_

"_Jedi Council Head, Aayla Secura, continues to deny any involvement by the Jedi Order in the recent string of attacks in spite of mounting evidence of unknown individuals at the scenes wearing tell-tale Jedi garb and sporting their infamous laser swords. Investigators continue to search…"_

"…_fighting broke out on Mygeeto earlier when local rebel leaders, still loyal to the now defunct CIS, raided the governor's mansion and the House of Parliament. They are demanding reparations and separation from the Republic…"_

"_Speculation about a connection between the recent attacks and severe shakeups in Jedi Council leadership has made for a rough start for the fledgling nomadic state's representation in the Senate. Representative Leia Skywalker, daughter of the famous Hero With No Fear, Anakin Skywalker, continues to plead…"_

"…_the entire Galaxy is in a state of absolute chaos with no end in sight…"_

Tarkin leaned back in his chair, ignoring the creaking sound of the leather. He drew a deep, silent breath through his nostrils as he listened to the reports and punditry play in the background. Having trained his mind to simultaneously assimilate vast amounts of information from multiple sources, he only needed to focus his attention on the reports streaming in when he heard a particular item of interest.

As a child, Tarkin had always assumed that everyone had this skill, but when he began his naval career, it became abundantly clear that this was not the case. At the academy, he consistently outperformed his peers in battle simulations by always being several steps ahead of them. In the complex four-dimensional attack formations he was able to see the entire battle, observe the flaws, and make seemingly innocuous adjustments early in the fight that would later prove decisive. But greatness is never achieved simply by a quirk of genetics, Tarkin often mused. Recognizing the potential of this particular skill, he had spent a decade honing and mastering it. He found its usefulness extended far beyond the space battles and well into politics and social interactions. It was this, he was convinced, that had caught the eye of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

Tarkin allowed himself a brief moment to rue the loss of so great and natural a leader. Having never fancied himself a king, Tarkin saw Palpatine as the embodiment of what the galaxy needed—a confident, competent leader with the iron will to do what was necessary to ensure stability.

"The common man," Palpatine had often told him, "cares nothing for politics, and only wants to be left alone. He cares nothing for ideological constructs like democracy. They are meaningless. A freed slave will stab his liberator in the heart if that slave goes hungry. The common man makes no distinction between the benevolent dictator and the democratically elected representative."

"…_Senator Leia Skywalker is set to answer charges being presented by Senator Fett on the Senate floor…"_

"…_another attack by unknown assailants on Delta Psamtik has the local PMA scratching their heads…"_

Tarkin frowned.

He looked up and focused his attention on the holovid. "Psamtik?"

"Skywalker is behind this." Her voice came from behind him. He did not turn. Though she had once again managed to approach him without his notice, he refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was able to move so easily in and out of his presence.

Tarkin placed his hands on his armrests, draping his long, skeletal fingers over the edge. "That hardly seems likely, Ventress," he replied. He was careful to maintain his air of superiority despite a growing sense of unease. Ventress' recent uncanny tendency to anticipate events, though beneficial, never ceased to cause a chill to run up his spine. "Attacks are happening hundreds of light-years apart, virtually simultaneously. Such a feat would be impossible even if he hadn't, as you claim, lost his power."

"It would be a mistake to underestimate Skywalker," Asajj answered simply. She lifted her hand, pointing a small device at the screens. In an instant, they all shut off and the room plunged into darkness.

Tarkin stood. "Ventress! What is the meaning of this?"

"You are not afraid of the dark, are you, Wilhuff?" Ventress' voice hissed. He could hear her irritating smile in her tone.

"Amusing, my dear," Tarkin answered. He reached out and in a flash, grabbed her by the throat and pulled her face to his. Even in the dark, he could see the surprise and fear in her eyes. He allowed a small smile to play across his lips as he squeezed tighter. "Do not mistake my calm demeanor for one of tolerance."

Asajj seemed to regain her composure immediately. She grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." Suddenly the room was alight with pinpricks of white, blue, yellow, and red. Miniature orbs of light hung all about the chamber, clearly a holomap of the galaxy. One light near the outer rim began to flash. A moment later, another blinked in synchrony with the first. More and more lights began to join in a strange visual cacophony.

Tarkin loosened his grip. "This… is the pattern of the attacks…?"

"You see it, don't you, Tarkin?" Ventress pulled herself free. "He began with Geonosis a year ago. We were the only ones who knew of the attack, though we didn't know who was behind them. He must have used the opportunity to obtain intelligence on our other operations and planted seeds of dissent everywhere."

He placed a hand on his chin. "That _would_ explain why so many of our spies have been discovered and executed." He turned to her. "If you're correct, he has far more knowledge about us than I am willing to allow. However, these dalliances of his could not have come at a better time."

"Is that so?"

"With the galaxy in an uproar about local uprisings and terrorist attacks, the people are full of fear. When we demonstrate the full power of this battle station, that fear will keep the entire galaxy in our grip."

Ventress nodded. "Yes. It _is_ convenient. But Skywalker can disrupt our plans. He is bent on revenge and will stop at nothing to get to us."

Tarkin frowned. "So it would seem. I still do not understand why you risked so much just to kill his wife. You lost half of your organization in that operation."

She stared at him, expressionless.

"Very well," Tarkin said at length. "It is neither here nor there now. If you are correct in your assessment that Skywalker is behind this, then my selection of Delta Psamtik for our demonstration is fortuitous. With luck, we will destroy him in the process."

"I have directed the Navigator to take the fleet to Kuat," Ventress announced calmly.

"You did what?"

"After Kuat is destroyed," Asajj continued as if Tarkin had not spoken at all, "you will take charge of the HoloNet and deliver this speech." She handed Tarkin a data pad.

Taken aback, Tarkin blankly took the pad and glanced at the speech. "What..?" Rage burgeoned in his chest. "Have you taken leave of your senses, woman?"

The room seemed to spin on its axis and Tarkin found himself hanging immobilized in the air, two meters above the durasteel floor. "What in the name of the—?"

Asajj raised a calming hand and glided over to him, smiling slightly from below. "Do not assume that I am requesting this, Wilhuff. I am fond of you and you are valuable to me and my plans." She gently touched ran her fingers along his calf, and then turned her back to leave. When the pressure doors parted for her exit, she halted at the frame but did not turn. "However, you are not irreplaceable. You would do well to remember that."

She disappeared through the door and it slid shut. A moment later, Tarkin crashed into the durasteel, twisting his ankle in the process. He bit back the shriek of pain that threatened to erupt.

For the first time in his life, Tarkin was completely unclear as to how to proceed. Everything he thought he knew seemed to have been twisted about somehow. Only one thing was abundantly clear at that moment. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

* * *

As the doors to her private quarters slid behind Asajj with a quiet hiss, she collapsed against the frame, desperately sucking air into her lungs while trying to steady her trembling hands. The cool compressed air from the ventilation duct above her head sent a shiver up her spine as it passed over the cold sweat that had formed on her neck. She shoved herself off the frozen durasteel and struggled to her plush bed, terrified of the knowledge that the tendrils of ice that prickled her body had nothing to do with the environmental controls of the battle station. 

_Calm yourself, child,_ the Master intoned. Despite hearing him talk to her for over a decade, she could never adjust to hearing him whisper to her and her alone._You did well._

"He…" she gasped. "He's going to kill me."

_He is beneath you. Unworthy to lick your boot. He cannot harm you._

"I…am powerless. You saw how easily he was able to grab me."

_You focus too much on that which you lack and not enough of that which you possess. _His voice was patient as always, the consummate master to an irascible apprentice.

She swallowed hard and forced herself up. "Yes…Master."

_Soon you will possess the galaxy and I will open for you the doorway to infinite knowledge._

Asajj stood, took a deep, measured breath, and bowed slightly to the center of the room. If her master appreciated the gesture, he gave no indication. It didn't matter. He was right, she knew. Before the loss of her connection to the Force, the Master would frequently vanish for long periods of time, seeming to trust her to deal with routine matters on her own. But since the death of Skywalker's mistress, the Master was always present. With him by her side, she was as powerful as she had been at her peak—perhaps more so. She had always assumed that his power extended only to communicating with her from the beyond, but when he hoisted Tarkin like a broken fatsiki doll, it became clear that he was capable of a great deal more.

What else had he kept from her?

"Master," she began, "Why _are_ we destroying Kuat instead of Psamtik? Tarkin selected it based on its popularity, weak planetary defenses, and small population. He did not want us to appear to be butchers while making it clear that we were capable of ruthlessness."

The silence that followed was so deep that Asajj began to worry that the Master would take her question as insolent. Finally he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of impatience for the first time in recent memory.

_Where Tarkin is weak, you must be strong. Destroying a meaningless planet to stop a few billion casualties is idiotic. Tarkin, being a military man, should know better. Kuat will build the fleet they will want to raise against you unless it is destroyed._

"What of Skywalker?" Asajj pressed. "Tarkin is right. It's inconceivable that he alone has created all this havoc across the galaxy."

_Do you doubt me, child?_ His tone clearly held a warning.

"No, Master," she answered quickly. "I only ask that I may understand."

_I have aided Skywalker's quest as it suits our needs. That is all you need to know._

"Yes, Master."

_Everything is proceeding according to plan._

* * *

The_ Millennium Falcon _banked hard in the atmosphere above the fourth planet from the bright, yellow sun in the Baeri Augilis system, causing a flash of flame to erupt along the outer shields. Inside the cockpit, the Wookiee copilot roared and Han Solo grinned. 

"Just having a bit of fun, big guy," he laughed. "Don't get your fur in a knot."

Chewbacca roared a response and shook his fist.

"All right! All right!" Han threw his hands up, and then throttled back on the controls. The ship slowed. "Touchy today, aren't we?"

The massive Wookiee uttered a mix of grunts and snorts.

"Hey! That's not fair!" Han yelled back, indignant. "I help clean power converters!"

Chewbacca snorted.

"Well…sort of."

Lyn Me stuck her head into the cockpit. "Mace wants you to fly beneath the southern pole and stay low below two hundred meters above the water surface."

"What in the hell for?" Han barked. "The PMA already knows we're here, Twitch. And they've got satellites. It's not like we're going to be inconspicuous flying over nothing but water."

"I didn't ask, and he didn't say," Lyn Me answered. "He wants you to land on Honsu Island. It's the small island set apart from Andahar—"

"I know where Honsu Island is, Twitch!" Han snapped. He spun in his chair and pointed a finger at her. "I don't need any more copilots! This one—" the tossed a thumb at Chewbacca "—gives me enough lip as it is. So why don't you sit back and relax. We'll be there in no time."

Lyn's lekku flickered in irritation. She glanced out the view window and tilted her head upward. "Just watch the sky, flyboy," she answered and then pulled her head out of the cockpit. A moment later, she returned, a blaster in her hand. "And if you call me 'Twitch' one more time, I'm going to make sure to put a hole in you so big that you be able to fly this bantha heap you call a ship of yours through it."

She disappeared again to a series of grunts and chuckles from Chewbacca.

"Laugh it up, fuzz ball!" Han muttered. "She's just playing hard to get."

Chewbacca laughed again.

"All right. That's enough," Han grunted. "Let's get this thing low."

He pushed down on the yoke and the [iFalcon[/i entered a steep nose dive. Han grinned in satisfaction as he heard a loud thud and crash behind him from Lyn Me losing her balance during the sudden maneuver. Chewbacca howled at him and Han pulled up at the last instant, skimming the surface of the water by no more than a meter. He was rewarded for his efforts with the sound of another crash behind him.

"Sometimes, Chewie," he smiled, "it's the simple pleasures in life."


	15. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 7, Part II

**Chapter 7,**

**Revolution, Part II**

Stray light from the full moon filtered down into the alleyway, casting every corner and crevice in blackness. Once again, Obi-Wan bit back his irritation at being unable to probe those shadowed areas with the Force. He had endured nearly a standard year of frustration since he left the Jedi Order behind, but the pang of the loss still stabbed and twisted deeply into the pit of his stomach.

He took deep, measured breaths, and waited.

Peering into the black silence, Obi-Wan's mind wandered. He found himself reflecting on the seemingly never-ending search for his former padawan and closest friend. At first the trail had been easy to track—simply follow the path of destruction.

Anakin's attacks might have seemed random to most and certainly not attributable to him, but Obi-Wan had recognized the pattern the moment Geonosis' droid factories had begun to explode. By the time Obi-Wan had arrived on the scene, nearly a quarter of the planet's mass hung loosely in space. Shattered machines and broken insectoid bodies floated among shards of rock more massive than a star destroyer, like the discarded refuse of an armada prior to a hyperspace jump. Translucent wings, severed by the force of the explosion on the planet below, had collided with Obi-Wan's transparisteel windows as readily as the dust and broken earth that had slipped through the ship's shields.

He had landed his ship in the midst of chaos. Dead and dying bodies of Geonosian builders were strewn all over the desert landscape closes to the gaping chasm that the largest of the explosions had created. The humanitarian effort alone had consumed weeks of Obi-Wan's time, complicated by him becoming the de facto leader of sporadic groups of relief workers that showed up when no Republic aid was delivered to the planet that so many remembered as the spark point for the Clone Wars. There was no formal investigation into the tragedy by anyone outside of the Geonosian government, which reported the event as a major industrial accident. It took Obi-Wan nearly a month to piece together what had happened.

A man and a single astromech droid had landed on the planet, looking for work. Within weeks, the man had demonstrated superior technical skills and had been granted access to the research reactors to assist in an ongoing effort to fabricate a mineral called cadrinium. Obi-Wan hadn't been able to figure out what the Geonosians planned to use the material for, but it was clearly something that their senior management wanted kept quiet. The two human workers who had talked to Obi-Wan died in reconstruction accidents shortly after they told him about the project.

On the day of the explosion, a series of accidents had plagued the facility, destroying vast complexes and overwhelming the Geonosian casualty response units. Before anyone knew what was happening, the research reactors all went hypercritical simultaneously and the planet nearly ripped itself apart. The man and his droid were assumed to have been consumed in the explosion. He had been known to have an obsessive work ethic, going days without rest in his quest to solve the puzzle of artificially manufacturing the rare mineral. He had constantly peppered every Geonosian he met with questions as varied as where they got their supplies to who was responsible for their funding.

By the time Obi-Wan had entered hyperspace to continue his search for Anakin, he had been sure of two things: that Anakin was responsible for the "accident" on Geonosis; and that Geonosis was but the beginning.

For months, the attacks were predictable. Metalorn's droid factories followed Geonosis. Koru Nemodia's aquatic world was next, when their cargo shipyard was incinerated in a fusion bomb explosion that claimed nearly three hundred thousand Nemodians. Obi-Wan had been so close that time, managing to show up on the day of the blast. He remembered staring helplessly from space as the small stretches of land on the planet burned in Anakin's vengeance.

After that, it became nearly impossible to keep up with Anakin. Resistance groups all across the galaxy took the attacks as inspiration and began their own uprisings. Without the Force to guide him, Obi-Wan had been reduced to using statistical protocols to help him guess where Anakin might strike next. With the many rebellions popping up across the galaxy, those programs had become increasingly less reliable.

In the end, though he loathed admitting it, it was a bit of chance that led Obi-Wan to the dark alleys of Adhara City's industrial area on Psamtik. For all he knew, the rebel on Ord Cestus had just been boasting when he claimed to have met the Rogue Shadow.

Every planet had a different name for Anakin, and the stories of his exploits had taken on mythic proportions. Anakin reportedly fought for everything from lost love to restoration of the only true democracy the galaxy had ever known—the Confederacy of Independent Systems. He was both a defender of the Republic's ideals and the architect of its inevitable demise. Each leader on his home planet was convinced that he alone was brave enough to join in with the heroic efforts of the Lone Hero—the most common name that Obi-Wan had heard. After many futile attempts to disabuse local groups of their fantasies, and having nearly paid with his life for his efforts, Obi-Wan had learned to take the stories in stride, gleaning what information he could from them.

But on Ord Cestus, the description that the inebriated rebel leader gave was too uncannily accurate for Obi-Wan to dismiss. The leader told how the Rogue Shadow had found their meeting place and had roared at their inaction. The local rebel group had long been meeting to vent their frustrations at Cestus government policies, though they had never been militant. But the Rogue Shadow had warned them that their inaction would lead to their ultimate destruction. They would grow old and complacent. There would be no songs sung of their deeds. They would not make their world better. And their children would hate them for their cowardice. It was, according to the rebel leader, precisely the boot in the pants that they needed. The Rogue Shadow had stuck around long enough to train the group in munitions and combat tactics before taking off with his two droids to find the rebel cell on Psamtik.

Obi-Wan stood silently in the shadows of the alley, waiting for that cell's leader to return from their latest escapade—an explosive sinking of several pleasure yachts along the Adhara City pier. He had followed the group around for several days in the hopes of that they had made contact with Anakin. The bumbling antics of the group, which had resulted in half their membership falling into PMA hands, made it clear that they weren't under Anakin's tutelage yet.

Still, Obi-Wan had no other leads. So he waited.

And waited.

When the moon finally dipped behind the buildings and the entire alley was as black as the shadows in which Obi-Wan stood, he heard the soft, measured steps of someone moving toward him. Slowing his breathing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reflexively reached out with his mind. As usual, the Force was silent, though the action did enable him to focus on what he was hearing.

There were two distinct pairs of footsteps. One was slightly heavier than the other, though they both moved much more quietly than they typical civilian population. These two were military trained. Obi-Wan dropped quietly into a crouch as the footfalls grew closer, slowed his breathing, and dropped his hands to his side. The footsteps halted at what sounded like two meters to his left. Obi-Wan glanced at the large metal canister behind which he hid to confirm that they would not be able to see him, even if they had better night vision than he did.

"There's someone here," a female voice that sounded faintly familiar whispered.

"Are you sure?" a male voice, also familiar but difficult to place, responded. "We scanned this area clear not ten minutes ago."

"My lekku don't lie, lover," she answered.

Obi-Wan frowned.

"Then it has to be him," the male announced. He raised his voice. "Come out, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan froze. Every muscle tightened. It took him several moments to remember to breathe. His mind a sudden jumble of confusion, he barely noticed the two pairs of black boots that suddenly appeared before him. He moved his hand to his lightsaber slowly as he looked upward.

The darkness in the alley obscured the features of the man who stood above him. That alone, however, was not why Obi-Wan didn't recognize him at first. The man's shoulders were broader than when Obi-Wan had last seen him. His hair was longer, tied at a single point, and hanging loosely down his back.

But the unfamiliarity with the man who stood with his arms crossed in front of him ran much deeper than the physical changes he had undergone. He exuded a confidence that Obi-Wan had never seen in him before. He breathed authority. Had the lithe Twi'lek girl not been standing so closely behind the man, Obi-Wan would never have recognized him. As it was, Obi-Wan could barely find his voice.

"Luke…?"

Though Obi-Wan couldn't quite see it, he could hear a smirk on the boy's face. "Hi, Uncle Obi. You're a hard man to catch up with."

* * *

The cramped durasteel cell had no windows. The only source of light in the blackened room came from what little managed to slip through the tight seams in the single metal door, nearly a meter in thickness. The putrid stench of excrement permeated the cell, as the lone figure who had hung from the ceiling by the arms for the previous three days had been offered no other place to relieve himself of his waste.

His body bore the marks of his capture. Fresh scars, cauterized instantly by the heat from a lightwhip, ran the length of his back in haphazard, crisscross fashion. The skin on his face was tight from the pools of blood that had coagulated on his cheek and above his right eye, giving his normally dark brown complexion a horrid hue of purple ash.

The sessions with his interrogator had been straightforward enough. No words were exchanged between captive and captor when they met. The jailer would simply enter the room with a new set of instruments to inflict pain upon his prisoner. The jailer asked no questions, offered no pleasantries. He would simply stuff a wet rag, soaked in bitter liquid, into the prisoner's mouth before proceeding to wrack the prisoner with ever-increasing forms of agony.

It did not take the prisoner long to understand the game that was being played. This was a battle of wills. Who would speak first? Victory, in this game, was simple. It was merely a matter of patience for the jailer. Every few hours, he would enter the tiny cell and ruthlessly punish the man who hung more and more limply each time, to within a centimeter of his life. Then the jailer would leave the man to recover, relying on recuperative powers of the tart medicine in the rag to keep the man strong enough to endure more torment.

By the time the door opened and flooded the chamber with light, the dark man who had stood proudly during his first beating, did not bother to look up. His jet-black locks, peppered with grey, hung loosely over his face and shielded his eyes from the visitor's arrival. His wrists, gouged and raw from bearing his weight, barely twisted in their metal manacles, serving as the only acknowledgement that anything had changed.

The jailer moved smoothly into the room, leaving the door fully ajar. He took no implements of torture with him into the cell. He moved with long, graceful strides across the room, his hands clasped behind his back, and circled the figure hanging from the ceiling. The prisoner didn't react.

At length, the jailer stood in front of the prisoner and stared at the broken man in silence. They remained there, prisoner with his head bowed, and jailer with his head aloft. Finally, the jailer placed his hand gently on the chin of the prisoner and lifted his face. His eyes widened as he gazed at the battered face. The jailer turned on his heel and walked out of the cell, leaving the door ajar.

The prisoner kept his head up as he stared out into the brightness, unable to discern anything beyond the doorway. Several minutes later, med droids appeared and began tending to his wounds. Service droids began cleaning the room, removing the feces and caked blood from the metal floor. The droids did an admirable job, both in repairing his damaged body and in cleansing the room, though the stench still hung in the air after they scurried out.

The jailer returned, carrying a metal chair. When the two were alone again, he shut the door and a dim light from above their heads flooded the cell. The jailer activated a small device and the manacles holding the prisoner aloft opened, causing the prisoner to crumple to the floor. The prisoner lay motionless on the metal floor, too weak to move.

The jailer sat in his chair, his legs set slightly apart, and his back straight. On any other human, the position would have looked rigid and uncomfortable. But this, equally dark-skinned man appeared perfectly at ease, as if he could remain seated that way for all eternity and never tire.

In the end, it was the prisoner that broke the silence.

"Thank…you." His voice was hoarse from disuse and it was clear that it had been a struggle for him to utter.

The jailer smiled. "You're very welcome, Quinlan Vos," he replied warmly. He bowed his head slightly toward the prisoner. "I am honored."

Vos began to chuckle in response, but instead began to cough uncontrollably. Blood splattered from his mouth onto the floor. He wiped his mouth and looked back at his jailer. "You…have a funny way…of showing it."

The jailer nodded, his face looking severe. "Yes. I apologize. My…associates took my direction a bit further than I had anticipated. For that, they shall be dealt with, I assure you."

Vos finally looked closely at the man who sat in the chair opposite him. It took him several moments to realize that this was not his jailer. This was not the man who had whipped him mercilessly and crashed an energized prod into his cheek. This was not the man who had electrified the manacles on his wrists and left him to writhe in pain. This was not the man who had driven a half-meter long blade into his spine, repaired it and then did it again.

"Who…?"

"You may call me Xander," the man replied, his voice patient and warm.

Recognition formed in Vos' addled brain. "You…you lead the Crimson Suns." It was not a question.

"I do," Xander replied matter-of-factly.

Vos sat up as best he could. "Where are the holocrons?"

Xander's eyes widened. "Is _that_ what you were after?" He chuckled lightly. "Well why didn't you just ask?"

* * *

Hal D'jut opened the door to his office with a broad smile on his face. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself after having successfully negotiated a multi-trillion credit deal with the Grand Navy of the Republic. In the span of two hours, he had managed to close a deal that Kuat Systems Engineering had been unable to push through for nearly a decade. His efforts alone meant that the company would continue to see booming profits for years to come; thousands of mouths would be fed. And he had pulled it all off before lunch.

He grinned, plopped himself into the plush Corellian steer leather chair, and kicked his feet up onto the Mustafar obsidian desk. Leaning back, he pulled a Nexu-tooth ivory pipe from his armorweave jacket, lit the crushed rear baccaf leaves and puffed the smoke contentedly. He looked about his ornate office and relished how his hard work and perseverance had brought him to a point in his life were he would enjoy only the most opulent treasures. KSE compensated him well for his efforts.

Of course, hours before, he had been far less confident. The Chairman of the Republic Armed Services Committee had been pressing for a demonstrated need for so large a fleet of super star destroyers. It had been a frustrating conversation, given that Hal had already lubricated the tracks with all the key Senators who would vote on the funding request and all that was required was for the Chairman to all that vote to take place. When the Senator had appeared on the flatscan with that…girl in tow, Hal had sensed right away that things might go poorly.

Skywalker.

For a moment, as he remembered her petulant face, Hal forgot about the aromatic smoke in his lungs and didn't exhale quickly enough. He coughed so hard that he nearly fell backward in his chair, only managing to right himself by sacrificing the pipe so he could catch the edge of his desk. The pipe rolled onto the thick burgundy carpet, and the embers which fell from it immediately began to burn tiny black holes into it.

"Damn!" he screamed as he stomped on the burns. "I really hate that girl!"

Hal hadn't known about Senator Skywalker before the final negotiations began. The five minute recess he had taken when he had surmised where the meeting was going had turned out to among the more stressful moments in his life as he frantically called upon his vast resources to gather information on her. While it is always a fact that information is power, it is never truer than in intense negotiations. It turned out that the Skywalker girl was the daughter of Supreme Chancellor Amidala Skywalker, and was as much an idealist as her mother had been.

By the time the time the negotiations had come to a close, the girl had somehow convinced both Hal and the Senate Chairman to reduce the number of ships being requested in the bill by nearly half. Of course, Hal was perfectly all right with that, given that KSE's resources would have been stretched thin to meet the original purchase order requirements and, with the smaller order, he could raise the price per ship given the lower experience curve the ship builders would operate on.

As annoying as the child had been, he had managed to turn her presence into a boon for the company. That was the hallmark of his greatness, Hal knew—turning adversity into advantage. He picked up the fallen pipe and noticed that the design on the side had been burned badly. He smiled again. Having insured everything he owned, he would be able to collect a nice sum for his unfortunate accident.

Adversity into advantage.

A red light flashed on his desk. Hal frowned. "What in the…?" The light was connected to the Kuat Planetary Alert System. It had been installed in every home by the local government in order to warn of a planet-wide crisis. Hal had long considered the devices nothing more than a fantastic excuse for the government to exact more taxes from his rather sizeable bank account. He certainly never expected to see the ridiculous network activated.

He reached to activate the intercom.

"Mr. D'jut!" the shrill voice of his young assistant screeched through the speaker before he could touch the button. "The KPAS is active!"

Hal let out an impatient breath. "You think I can't see that, girl? What the hell is going on?"

"Sorry, sir!" she replied quickly. "I'm sorry, sir! Umm…it looks like reports are coming over the local HoloNet. Something about a—"

He switched off the intercom, already weary of her voice. Not for the first time, he asked himself why he had hired her. A quick reminder of her near-perfect physique quelled the question just as quickly. He activated the flatscan on his wall.

An attractive young woman stood on the roof of a tall building near one of the ocean fronts, the wind whipping at her hair while she screamed into the microphone attached to her ear.

"_..reports are still coming in, but several scientist are attributing this morning's freak tidal waves to the arrival of this vast, moon-like ship. Government officials have been tight-lipped so far, but we'll remain on station until confirmation of this vessel comes in. Back to you, E'xeter._"

The screen cut to a tall, thin reporter with graying hair whom Hal recognized immediately. The two were old friends, routinely frequenting the Sabaac tables around the city. The reporter's face was stern and grim. That didn't particularly concern Hal, given Exe's propensity for the dramatics.

"_If you're just joining us, the KPAS has been activated in response to the arrival of what can only be described as a massive artificial moon in the Kuat system. Scientists have been unable to ascertain its purpose, noting only that the large parabolic antenna gracing one of its sides, shown here, are likely part of an immense planetary weapon. All attempts to contact the space station have gone unanswered. So far, government officials have kept planetary defense systems at bay, hoping to establish peaceful cont—_"

The screen went blank.

"What the… ?" Hal punched the intercom. "Holly! What happened to the feed?"

"It looks like all the feeds are out, Mr. D'jut!"

"What do you mean, all the feeds?"

"All of them!" She sounded as if she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "The entire HoloNet, Mr. D'jut." She started to cry. The intercom went dead. Several moments later, she opened the door tentatively and looked in, her eyes red. "What's happening, Sir?"

Hal sighed and waved her to his chair while he activated his console and began slicing into the defense network. One of the benefits of being a part of KES was that he knew all the backdoors into virtually every government-run system on the planet. It took him only a few scant minutes to access the global grid and find information streaming in about the gargantuan battle station that was moving through the system. His blood ran cold.

"They've sliced into the entire HoloNet, Laila," he whispered, barely able to believe it himself. "They've preempted every broadcast from around the galaxy."

"Who has?"

Hal turned that over in his mind several times. Whoever they were, they had vast resources at their disposal. If he could just communicate with them, he might be able to land KES an even more lucrative contract than he had earlier that morning.

"Adversity into advantage," he breathed, rubbing his chin.

"Wha—"

The flatscan lit up suddenly. A gaunt man with slicked-back gray hair and dark eyes sunk deep into his face stared out at them. His high cheekbones only served to accentuate the sallow appearance of his cheeks, giving him a skeletal look and feel. The man stared into the holocam for a long moment, before he spoke.

"_People of the Republic, I am Grand Moff Tarkin."_

"What's a Grand Moff?" Laila asked.

"Shush, girl!" Hal turned the volume up.

"_It is unfortunate that I must speak to you today from aboard a military vessel. However, things being as they are in our illustrious Senate, I am afraid that such measures are regrettably…unavoidable._"

Tarkin shifted slightly, giving the slightest indication that he truly might be troubled. Of course, Hal recognized the fiction for what it was. Tarkin was merely playing a part.

"_Nearly two decades ago, a great leader attempted to steer this once-great Republic from a horrible course. He recognized the corruption within the Senate and did everything within his power to root it out and destroy it. Alas, he was betrayed by the very people who had sworn to protect him and the Republic. _

_It would seem that the galaxy is not without its own sense of justice. Now, those very betrayers are nothing more than a shadow of their former selves. The fire of the Jedi is all but extinguished."_

Tarkin smiled. It seemed genuine.

"_It is incumbent upon us not to allow things to continue as they have. We must right the ship. Chancellor Palpatine's great mistake was twofold. First, he trusted in the Jedi. As his successor, the late Chancellor Amidala Skywalker reminded us with such vigor, it is up to us—normal people, ordinary people—to run our own lives. His second great mistake was to put too much faith in a system that had been so corrupted that it no longer even resembled the ideals it once held so tightly to._"

Tarkin squared his shoulders and leveled his gaze at the galaxy.

"_We will not make those mistakes again."_

Tarkin let that hang in the air, across the galaxy, for several, long moments.

"_Today marks the dawning of a new era. The Republic will be abolished in a single stroke. Not by the far-away acts of demigods and mystics, but by the ingenuity and determination of ordinary people. By us. The transfer of power to new leadership will be a peaceful one. In a single act, we will demonstrate the extent of our power, the force of our will, and we will eliminate the ability of the traitors in the Senate to escalate our peaceful intentions with needless bloodshed._"

Hal's eyes widened. "Kraff!!" He jumped out of his chair and grabbed Laila's slender wrist, pulling her with him. "We've got to go. Now."

"What's wrong?" she pleaded.

Hal didn't wait to explain, choosing instead to hoist her tiny form over his shoulder as he dashed out onto the veranda, where his personal skiff waited. He barely noticed her pounding on his back. A part of him considered dumping her on the duracrete and leaving her to her suffer the fate of the planet, but even he couldn't leave her to die when it was so easy to save her. So he shoved her into the cabin as he dashed into the cockpit.

In seconds, the engines hummed to life and the skiff began to lift off. He smiled to himself, grateful that he had the good sense to buy only the best equipment available. He angled the nose of the ship upward as he punched in hyperspace coordinates to Muunilist, figuring that he could decide what to do once he had access to his funds there.

The ship began to move through the atmosphere and he pushed the throttle harder. Just as the blackness of space began to come into view, his viewport filled with the battle station. Its parabolic antenna was angled toward Kuat, and a bright flash of emerald energy from eight distinct emitters coalesced into a single beam that shot down at the planet.

In an instant, the planet flashed brilliant white.

"Oh no!"

Hal D'juk's final thoughts before the concussion wave from Kuat's complete annihilation crashed into his ship and shredded it like papyrus had nothing to do with galactic politics. All he could think of was how stupid he had been for not having established beneficiaries for his fortune that lived off-world.


	16. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 8, Part I

7

**Chapter 8,**

**Fall of the Old Republic**

Pandemonium descended on the Senate Arena.

The Senate had been gathered in its massive coliseum to address charges being levied against the Nomadic Tribe of Jedi by the Nomadic Tribe of the Clones. The Clones claimed to have had irrefutable evidence that would show that it was the Jedi Order that was responsible for the series of attacks across the galaxy. Senator Fett had been at a particularly crucial moment in his testimony—the point at which he would present his evidence to the Senate body—when Grand Moff Tarkin took over the spacewaves and changed the face of galactic politics with a single blow to the heart of the Republic's military-industrial complex.

The deluge of terror that crashed down on the galaxy in the moments following the destruction of Kuat coalesced in the Senate chamber, its icy fear rising rapidly from the lower levels and threatening to drown every Senator and aide. Some sat frozen in their seats, unable to move. Others screamed in outrage, unsure of at whom they should direct their anger. But most tried to escape, dashing for the exits in panic despite the growing understanding that, with a weapon as powerful as this…Death Star…in play, there was no place in the galaxy that they could consider safe again.

But escape was not possible.

While the Senators had sat in stunned silence, transfixed by Grand Moff Tarkin's declaration of war on the Old Republic, a thousand clone troopers armed with standard issue DC-10 rifles had quietly filled every exit from the Senate Coliseum. Only two Senators had noticed the deployment of forces during the speech. And it was those two Senators who remained seated in their pods while their colleagues fidgeted uncomfortably in their pods or charged recklessly toward the blocked exits.

Senators Bail Organa and Leia Skywalker watched in stunned silence as the first blaster was fired, and the aide to the Senator from Corellia crumpled to the floor with a charred, smoking hole where her chest had once been. For a brief moment, the Senate fell into surprised silence. Then shock turned into outrage, and outrage into violent rebellion.

But Senators were politicians, not warriors bred in vats and trained from birth with the sole purpose of efficiently dispatching the enemy. The flash of blaster fire that ensued was brutal and efficient. Senators rushed headlong at the wall of white-clad clone warriors only to crumple lifeless to the ground. Crimson packets of particle energy seared through flesh and bone, their distinctive staccato hum drowning in the din of anguished screams. Bodies fell as quickly as they rose in rebellion.

When the cacophony of blaster fire finally subsided, leaving a smoke-filled haze and the pungent scent of burnt flesh in its stead, the broken bodies of hundreds of Senators and Aides littered the pathways to the exits. The army of clone troopers stood resolutely where they had been, an impenetrable sea of white armor.

Organa frantically scanned the sea of Senators. Every Senator fidgeted in frustration, clearly feeling the overwhelming urge to act, but knowing that he was powerless to do so. Etched on their faces, their enraged frustration rapidly turned to shaking terror, and eventually obvious despair. They were trapped and they all knew it.

A mere twenty minutes after the destruction of Kuat, the Senate had been silenced. Only the ambient sounds from thousands of beings shifting uncomfortably in their pods gave any hint to the presence of the mighty Republic Senate.

"This is an outrage!" the Senator from Cestus spoke up, his half-hearted attempt at bluster sounding especially weak as his voice cracked mid-sentence. He lowered his voice before he continued. "Chancellor…certainly there is [i_something_[/i you can do about this?"

A deep rolling thunder of rumbles swept through the crowd. Chancellor E'room stood unsteadily and, for the first time to the assembly, it became clear that he had been caught in the crossfire earlier. He raised his palm.

"Calm, Senators," he coughed. He looked out at the mass of dead and dying, his eyes hiding none of his despair and obvious outrage. As he drew a deep breath only to have his lungs spasm again in response, his face hardened and he straightened. "We will get to the bottom of this…atrocity," he finally said through thin lips.

He maneuvered his pod toward one of the Clones who was adorned with red splashes along his armor, signifying the highest rank in the chamber. The two spoke animatedly, with E'room nodding occasionally while the Clone Commander pointed occasionally to the exits. After what seemed like an eternity, E'room's pod moved back to the center of the chamber.

"Senators," he smiled warmly. "Some of you may remember Clone Commander Cody, famous for his many victories at the side of General Obi-Wan Kenobi." He waved his hand to point out the Clone Commander with whom he had just spoken. "He has just assured me that he and his troopers are not here to harm anyone and apologizes profusely for the regrettable use of force."

Leia shot out of her seat. "[i_Apologizes?_[/i" she barked. "Hundreds are [i_dead_[/i, Chancellor!"

The Arena erupted. The Chancellor nodded and then raised his palms for calm.

"Yes, Senators," he answered, obviously struggling to keep his own outrage in check. "Their deaths are, indeed tragic, and we will mourn their great sacrifice when time allows for it." He drew a deep breath, wincing in pain as he gripped his wounded side. He held his eyes tightly shut for several long seconds before reaching out and gripping either side of the podium.

"My friends," he continued, his voice steadier than it had been, "Commander Cody is acting under Order One. All Clones bred for the GAR are programmed with several orders from birth. Order One—preserve the Republic at all costs—is their most cherished one. "Upon the destruction of Kuat, Commander Cody mobilized his troops to preserve the Senate. He cannot allow us to scatter to the winds in fear when the galaxy needs us most."

Leia's eyes went wide. "Chancellor! Surely you don't believe this nonsense!" she snapped. "The clones are going to preserve the Senate by killing its Senators?"

Senator Fett's pod moved to the center. His face appeared wracked with sad resignation. "Senators," he said, his voice barely audible despite the magnificent amplification systems in all the pods, "I can confirm what the Chancellor says. While I do not agree with the…logic…that Commander Cody has employed, I do understand what he is thinking. We are vat-mates, he and I—among the first, though his growth was accelerated where mine was not."

He canvassed the arena as he continued. "The Senate [i_must_[/i prevail in the midst of this crisis. Order One is our highest directive—it supersedes even the Chancellor's authority. If we allow this crisis to destroy the Senate, then the Republic is doomed."

The once-angry mob of Senators began to mumble in their pods. Leia spun to Bail with wide eyes. She deactivated their pod's transceiver.

"Tell me you're not falling for this!" she whispered anxiously. "We've been herded in for slaughter!"

Bail nodded, looking anxiously around the room. "They're choosing to accept this lie because the truth is too unpalatable to accept."

Leia sat beside Bail and leaned close. "We have to get out of here before Tarkin arrives."

Bail glanced over his shoulder. "You believe he's on his way here?"

An annoyed huff of air from Leia blew an errant strand of hair from her face. "Of [i_course_[/i he's on his way here! How else will he legitimize his government before he kills us all?"

Realization dawned and Bail frowned. "You're right. He'll come in and 'negotiate' a succession of powers to him. Once that is ratified, he would be free to legally destroy the entire Senate. He'd only need to demand the same powers that Palpatine once had."

Leia peered over the side of her pod. "Bail. Do you know a way out of here?"

"Well…" Bail ran a hand across his grey goatee. "I suppose if we could get down to the bottom dais, get past the guards down there and to the southeast wall, we could blast an exit to the service tunnels through the wall, assuming we had some ordnance handy. From there, we could escape through the maze of ventilation shafts and catwalks. Most of those areas have few sensors."

"But those exits all have shields, right?"

Bail nodded. "Yes, mostly to keep small creatures from slipping in, but also to discourage would-be assassins."

"What if we cut power to the building? Would that take down those shields?" Leia was talking faster and kept looking over the side of the pod and down to the ground several hundred meters below.

"Leia, you'd have to take out the primary and secondary generators," Bail answered as calmly as he could. "Hell, if you could pull that off, you could just slide down the three hundred meter shaft and slip out any one of the atmospheric vents."

She nodded. "Got it." She stood.

"Senator!" Bail grabbed her arm. "We'd still have to get past the first part of our suicide plan here. We have to get down there!" he pointed to the ground one hundred meters below that had five armed clone troopers moving back and forth as they kept close eye on the crowds.

"About eighty kilos right?"

Bail frowned. "What?"

"You weigh about eighty kilos, right?" Leia snapped. "Keep up, man! We don't have much time here!"

"Umm…yes. I've put on a bit of weight in my age, I suppose, but that's about—"

Leia ducked down and hooked Bail over her shoulder. A moment later, she was standing on the edge of their pod.

"Leia!" he yelped. "What in the—?"

"Shut up and hang on!"

Bail felt his stomach bottom out as she leapt off the pod.

* * *

Obi-Wan eyed the mug of kelp beer that sat on the wooden table in the cantina suspiciously. The frothy greenish liquid looked anything but appealing. He glanced up at Luke who leaned back in the wooden chair, tilted against the stone-carved wall, drinking his beer in huge gulps. Obi-Wan leaned down, sniffed the drink and then shot back in his seat, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

He raised his brow as Luke finished the beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "What an interesting smell you've discovered, Luke," Obi-Wan said. He frowned at Luke's empty mug. "How can you drink this….swill?"

Luke shrugged and looked over at Shinah. She leaned closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and rested her head on the right side of his broad chest, smiling contentedly.

Obi-Wan frowned. "I see a year away from the Jedi Order has solidified your relationship."

With a loud thud, Luke plopped his boots on the table and interlaced his hands behind his head, a sly smile playing across his lips. Shinah seamlessly adjusted as he moved to his new position and then melded into him, running her hand along the black cloth of his tunic.

"We've had more time together, yes," Luke replied as he slipped a hand around Shinah's shoulder and squeezed. "But that's not why we're here, is it?"

"No," Obi-Wan frowned in response. "I suppose it isn't." He leaned across the table, glancing around. "I suppose you are the famous Rogue Shadow?"

Luke chuckled. "Come on, Uncle Obi. Old age hasn't made you that dense, has it?"

"The Luke I knew was a bit more respectful."

Luke's eyes went cold and his lips thinned noticeably. "Well, I guess I'm not the Luke you know."

He glanced down at Shinah who must have immediately understood the unspoken message. She stood and walked around the table, passing by Obi-Wan so as not to force Luke to have to move to let her by. Once she had stood, Luke returned to glaring at Obi-Wan and completely dismissed Shinah's departure. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan found himself frowning at the interaction between the lovers.

When they were alone, Luke dropped his feet back to the permacrete floor and placed his elbows on the table. "If you're asking if I had something to do with that uprising on Cestus in order to lure you here, that's pretty obvious," he snapped. "I got tired of chasing you around the galaxy."

Obi-Wan placed a hand on his chin and stroked his beard. "I see. So you pretended to be Anakin." Luke shrugged slightly. "Well, I suppose that's a relief. I'm not sure I would know how to deal with two loose-cannon Skywalkers." Obi-Wan took a quick look around before leaning across the table again. "But why? All you've done is taken me off the path to finding your father."

Luke laughed out loud this time. "Wow, Uncle Obi. I'm really beginning to wonder how you got the reputation you did!"

Obi-Wan stood. "I think I've had enough of this. You clearly have a need to prove that you are all grown up and have surpassed me in every way. I am too old to play these games." He pushed his chair away and turned toward the only door in the small cantina.

"Good plan, Obi-Wan," Luke called to his back. "Leave when you're needed most. That's what you're best at, isn't it?" Ow!

Obi-Wan stopped.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, 'Master'?"

The Jedi Master looked over his shoulder and saw nothing but hurt anger in Luke's eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt in his gut and moved closer to the table, but didn't sit. Luke balled his hands into white-knuckled fists as he stared at Obi-Wan's empty chair.

"You can run away because I hurt your feelings, or you can stay and work with me," he growled. "Either way, I'm not much for caring anymore. Your choice."

Obi-Wan stared at the top of Luke's head for several long moments, his mind reeling. He glanced down at his hands and noticed with alarm that they were shaking. Whether they were shaking out of hurt, rage, or guilt, he couldn't be sure. At length, he nodded silently, picked up his chair and sat down.

"All right, Luke. You win."

Luke continued to avoid Obi-Wan's eyes for several minutes as the two sat in silence.

Finally, he nodded as if the two had come to an agreement, and leaned in close. "I got a bead on Teru about a week ago. Apparently a dreadnaught cruiser caught up with him over Psamtik and they got into a major firefight. Somehow or other, he managed to knock out their main deflectors before they shot him out of the sky."

A surge of cold dread snatched hold of Obi-Wan's spine and pulled. "Anakin's…" he could barely breathe, "…dead?"

Luke shook his head. "I don't think so. His ship crashed on a small island not far from this one. I checked the wreckage, but there's no sign of him. C-3PO and Artoo were pretty banged up, but I fixed them up."

Obi-Wan let out a heavy sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for and several long moments, trying to steady his breathing. "I should like to talk to them, then," he said finally. "Where are they?"

"I've got them both on my ship. C-3PO wouldn't shut up, so I deactivated him."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Have you searched the island?"

"Well, it's a small island, Master, but it's still too big for me to search alone. There's a fifty-plus square kilometer wasteland in the middle of it and I can't think of a way to search it without being conspicuous."

A sudden roar erupted in the cantina and both men twisted to see. All the patrons were gathered around the small flatscan hanging above the bar and the barkeep was apologetically changing the channel back to the HoloNews. Something tugged at the pit Obi-Wan's gut and he crossed the bar quickly, joining the gathering.

"What's going on, friend?" he asked the nearest patron to him—a rotund Sullustan, whose black eyes went wide.

"Where the hell have you been, dolt?" he roared, his jowls flapping in irritation. "Some fool just blasted Kuat out of space!"

Obi-Wan froze. "What?"

He slipped through the crowd, shoving people and creatures aside to get closer to the flatscan. A stunning red-headed human woman spoke gravely into the holocam, framed by a shot of the debris of Kuat crashing against the shields of her ship.

…_reports that the Death Star has entered hyperspace. Rumors abound that it is destined for Coruscant where the Senate is expected to hear the demands of Grand Moff Tarkin…_

* * *

Lyn Me walked into the dark cabin and waited after the door slid shut behind her for her eyes to adjust. As usual, Mace said nothing, so she remained equally silent. She knew not to break the quiet. He always spoke first, and only when he had something to say. She still hadn't quite figured out how it was that she was always able to know when he wanted her to come to him, but she never asked him about it.

"This island is as close as we're going to get for now," Mace said, his baritone reverberating in the quiet cabin. "I'm going to try and access the holocron again tonight. It's best if you take Solo and the Wookie out into town."

Her lekku twitched in irritation. "And do what, exactly?" she snapped. "I can't stand that man."

"Improvise."

She shook her head. "Easy for you to say. He doesn't have delusions of bedding you."

"You would probably both do well to take each other to bed."

Lyn Me felt a surge of anger bubble up and she had to bite back the urge to find Mace in the darkness and slap him. She swallowed hard. "Mace, why do you keep pushing me away?"

As he normally did when she asked such questions, Mace said nothing. She decided to focus on what worried her most.

"Mace, I don't like you working on that thing," she whispered. "You're always hurt afterwards."

She thought he wasn't going to answer and started to leave when he spoke up. "I appreciate your concern, Lyn. Were it not necessary, I wouldn't do it. But this is the only holocron I've ever come across that someone who cannot touch the Force has been able to access... It brought us here to Psamtik—to a place in the middle of the ocean that we can't get to. I need to know why."

It was the most she'd heard Mace say in weeks. She was at once pleased and concerned at the gesture. "You're worried it might kill you, aren't you?"

Mace didn't answer, nor did she expect him to. She slid out the door as silently as she had come in.


	17. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 8, Part II

**Chapter 8,**

**Fall of the Old Republic, Part II**

Bail Organa felt his stomach lurch for what had to be the fifth time in as many seconds. While he was sure that the excitement of taking action in the face of the rising tide of tyranny had something to do with the summersaults going on in his gut, he was positive that it had more to do with the midair twists and turns that Leia was doing while he held on for dear life.

Their leap out of the pod had attracted the attention of the squads of clone troopers on the upper levels. A silent signal alerted the four troopers on the lowest dais and they had trained their weapons upward, clearly with the intent to dispatch the insolent politicians who dared to upset tentative peace in the Senate Arena. Unfortunately for Bail, he couldn't see what happened as they began their assault, given that his field of vision was almost entirely filled with Leia's backside. What he knew for sure was that he heard the distinctive hum of a lightsaber and the intermittent, familiar clash of blaster-fire against blade.

The whole thing seemed to last an eternity. By the time the pair was halfway down the one-hundred meter drop to the ground, the Senate was in an uproar—equal parts outrage at the disruption of the cease-fire and cheers of defiance. It took another few meters of freefall for Bail to realize that blaster-fire had begun to rain down from above as well. But Leia's firm, relaxed grip around his waist, gave him confidence that the new attack pattern was no more effective than the previous one had been.

It was only when they had they were about fifteen meters above their target and accelerating fast that it occurred to Bail that he had no idea how they would survive the fall. He started to say something but the words never made it to his mouth for two reasons. For one, he didn't think it wise to distract Leia from stopping the hundreds of red bolts that were being fired at them. But more importantly, despite the apparent slowness of events in Bail's mind, the entire fall was over in just under five seconds.

During the last half-second or so of the drop, Bail felt his stomach bottom out yet again as they rapidly decelerated and Leia tossed him off her shoulder. On instinct, he curled himself into a ball as he crashed onto the duracrete floor and rolled to halt against the curvilinear walls. He looked up just in time to see Leia dispatching the last of the four troopers. She moved her azure blade in a graceful arc through the clone's neck, causing his head to flip through the air in relative silence. There was a noticeable pause in the attack from above as if the clone warriors themselves were awed by this woman's practiced skill.

But Leia didn't seem the least bit interested in accolades. She spun toward Bail with a look of annoyance on her face and beckoned urgently. It took Bail a few seconds to realize that she was frustrated with the fact that he was still sprawled against the wall instead of up and taking cover. By the time he found his feet, the clone troopers above began firing again.

Leia held her lightsaber up but she wasn't actively spinning and twirling it like Bail had seen countless Jedi do when deflecting blaster-fire. Despite this, somehow every bolt that came her way was turned back in futility, not a single one making contact. Bail surmised that she had to have been moving the blade too fast for his eye to see. The whole scene seemed out of place, though he couldn't quite place why.

Leia had reached him and was pushing him roughly toward the southeast wall when a thought struck Bail.

"Leia…" he ventured. "I don't have any ordnance on me and your lightsaber might be able to cut through the wall, but it would probably take more time than we have."

Leia merely nodded and reached into her robe. "You might want to take cover," she said simply.

She tossed a small, spheroid device at the wall and then turned away and covered her head. Bail barely had time to follow suit before a massive explosion erupted behind him. Flame and debris pelted his robes and skin. The fire died as quickly as it began when the Senate's fire suppression system engaged. The flood of opaque gasses into the area, combined with the mass of atomized duracrete, reduced visibility to nearly nothing. Bail's lungs began to spasm and he felt completely disoriented.

Without even realizing he was doing it, Bail tried to stand, overwhelmed by the urge to look around and figure out where he was. An instant later he felt a pair of hands yank him forward and through the majority of the cloud of smoke and debris. He could suddenly see again, but he began to cough uncontrollably.

"Shh!" Leia whispered urgently, looking exasperated. She turned back to the hole in the wall that she had created and began removing what appeared to be several long pins from her immaculately coifed hair. Each was a thin, pointed fifteen-centimeter long needle, but they were fairly unremarkable in appearance. She moved back and forth from one side of the entrance to the next, thrusting the pins into the wall at every place that she touched. Bail spent the scant few seconds it took Leia to finish with his mouth agape. The girl was astoundingly efficient and single-minded.

She spun and faced him, her now-loose hair flowing down her shoulders. "All right, that should keep them busy for a bit." She leveled her gaze on Bail. "Now. Which way, big guy?"

Bail blinked. "What…?"

Leia blew out a puff of annoyed air through her lips, which tossed a lock of hair out of her face and back into place. Seeing the annoyed expression directed at him twice in so short a period made him wince. "Bail, you said we need to take out the primary and secondary generators."

"Well…yes…"

"Then. Which. Way?"

"Oh!" Bail tried to collect his thoughts. He scanned the area. "Umm…that way, I think."

Leia glanced behind her and then back at Bail. "Not exactly the resounding sense of confidence I was hoping for, but it'll have to do. Let's go. We need to get away from this spot anyway."

"I'm not sure that I can keep up with you, my dear."

"You either keep up, or you get carried over my shoulder, but you're coming with me. So make a choice now, Bail. Walk or ride?"

Bail stared at her. "You wouldn't!"

Leia tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," Bail frowned. "Well, as much as that particular mode of travel might be more efficient, I'm fairly certain that my wife wouldn't be too pleased with me being in such close proximity to your derriere, so I think I'll walk."

Leia didn't smile. "Let's go."

* * *

_...blaster fire ricocheted off bloodshine blades... _

"_Move in! She cannot touch you! You have the Force. You ARE the Force!"_

_The two assassins moved in to surround Padmé, their weapons humming their deadly tune. She fired a hail of suppressive fire, forcing them to defend themselves and halt their forward motion. When the two parted and moved to either side of her, she pulled a second DC-10 from the floor and shot at both assassins simultaneously. _

_They stood their ground, batting away her barrage furiously. She maintained her position, shooting in rapid-fire bursts every time one of them moved so much as a millimeter towards her._

_Impasse. _

_A bead of sweat trickled from her furrowed brow._

_Her arms, weary with age and overload, began to betray her. They drooped slightly, and the muzzles of both her guns trembled. The third assassin smiled. His compatriots apparently took this as a signal to begin the endgame and charged forward, weapons raised. They didn't have time to recognize their leader's sudden cry of alarm._

_Padmé's eyebrows drew tightly together, her eyes refocused on the attacker to her left, and her previously shaking arm straightened and tensed. By the time she twisted her head to concentrate on the second assassin in mid-flight, the first had crumpled to the durasteel floor, a gaping hole filled with smoke in his chest. The second responded quickly, batting away three of the four bolts she fired at him. But in the end, he fell as well, a cauterized stump in place of his neck. _

_She wheeled about to fire on the leader, but he was already standing beside her. His face was hidden behind the black mask that he wore, but his enraged grief was evident in the taut muscles of his chest and arms. The two fallen lightsabers flew through the air on the wings of the unseen Force and sliced through the two weapons in Padmé's hands before deactivating, and clanking to the floor._

_The two glared at each other, she with defiance and he with quiet rage._

"_Impressive," he breathed at last, eyeing her carefully. "Most impressive. You do your reputation justice, Senator."_

"_You will regret this," she spat._

"_I already do, milady," he sighed. "I already do."_

_He raised the dull, metal sword…_

"_NOOOOOOO!"_ Anakin shot up, eyes wide, and immediately grimaced in agony.

He instinctively snatched his right side, pressing his palm against the cracked ribs there. His muscles ached, as though he had just fought off ten thousand battle droids. The pain was a welcome respite from the incessant pounding of his heart that always accompanied the dream.

Anakin drew a deep breath through his teeth, wincing as his side screamed in protest. He could feel the whisperings of the Force lapping at the edge of his consciousness, almost begging to let him use it to heal his body. He curled his lips in anger and spat at the dry sand beneath his feet. He shut his eyes tight and waited for all signs of the Force to vanish from his mind, as it always did when he concentrated.

The murmured entreaties faded.

Holding his side with his flesh arm, Anakin gripped the rock face and pulled himself up. A gust of wind coursed through the dry canyon in which he stood. He looked around, seeing only shards of reddish-brown rock soaring to the sky nearly three hundred meters up. The wind moving through the hollow gorge played low-pitched musical notes that might have been pleasant to different ears. The distant sound of water lapping the Honsu Island beach told Anakin that he'd finally made it across the desert.

Of course, now that he had, he wasn't sure where to go next. His ship was hopelessly damaged and he had no credits on him to barter for a new one. The only thing of value that he had on him was his lightsaber and he wasn't even sure that it still worked, given that he hadn't used it in nearly a year. The insistent pang of hunger that had gnawed at his gut for the past day reminded him that he needed to find some way to get food. No matter what his options were, they were severely limited in the lifeless canyon.

He started out toward the sound of rushing and receding water.

After nearly an hour of plodding across the rock and sand terrain, flanked on either side by the imposing mountainous rock, Anakin finally saw the ocean around a bend in the path nearly two hundred meters ahead. He had to fight the irrational urge to run to the sea, realizing that he had no idea what he expected to do when he finally got there. Instead, he stopped and leaned against the rock, taking shallow breaths to minimize the incessant sting he felt in his side every time his lungs filled with air.

At times like this, Anakin could almost hear Obi-Wan telling him to be patient and to trust in the Force—that a path would be made clear for him in time. The very thought caused his stomach to tighten. He flexed his mechanical arm so tightly that he could hear the high-pitched whine of servomotors approaching overload above the gentle lap of the ocean against the shore.

"The Force is useless!" he growled quietly, as if afraid to disrupt the peaceful quiet of the canyon. As quickly as he realized it, Anakin tossed his head back and roared into the air. His enraged scream reverberated throughout the gorge, but Anakin had already stopped caring. He pushed himself off the wall and began to hobble toward the beach. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"The Force is a vengeful whore."

* * *

Bail's lungs burned. His throat was so tight that he could barely swallow, let alone catch his breath. Somewhere along the line, Leia had decided to start running and Bail had made the mistake of trying to keep up with her rather than to make her match his pace. By Alderaanian standards Bail was in superb physical condition, even taking part in the annual five-kilometer swimming race for charity that so many of his wealthy friends liked to watch. Of course, he always trained for that event several months ahead of time.

He had not trained for this.

"Leia…" he gasped between desperate gulps of air. "I…have to stop."

Leia looked over at him and he could almost see her struggle not to roll her eyes in disgust. "We've been running for less than twenty minutes!"

Bail decided that it was best not to try and continue the conversation while he felt like passing out. He slowed rapidly to a halt and grabbed hold of a railing on the catwalk to keep him from collapsing to the ground in exhaustion. He bent low at the waist, gasping for air.

Leia ran for several more meters before she too stopped and looked around. Her breathing was heavy, but steady. The only sign of fatigue that Bail could see was the sheen of sweat across her brow, which she wiped away with her sleeve.

"All right," she said after surveying the area for several moments, "we'll take a five minute break. How much farther to the primary and secondary reactors?"

It took a good few seconds for Bail to organize everything that Leia had said to him into a coherent message. The thunderous pounding of his own blood in his ears and the the near-hyperventilating pace of his breathing were proving to be quite distracting. Forcing himself upright, Bail looked around and tried to make sense of where they were. It took a minute, but he finally recognized the set of catwalks nearly a hundred meters below as the ones that would lead to the generator core.

He started to tell her but found that he could merely point, and just barely at that. Leia followed the direction of his finger and seemed to realize where they needed to go. She looked back at Bail with questioning eyes and he pointed again, this time to the service pod nearly a thousand more meters down the gangway. Leia nodded.

Leia walked and seemed to see his strained exhaustion for the first time. Her face softened slight. She walked over to him and tenderly wiped his brow. "We can take a few minutes," she said far less gruffly than Bail would have expected. "Go ahead and rest."

Bail nodded and collapsed to the metal grate beneath his feet, leaning his back against the railing. Already he could feel his heart rate slowing and he was beginning to catch his breath. For her part, Leia paced quietly, constantly scanning both ends of the catwalk and looking down at the walkway to the generator. Finally, she pulled a small comlink out from the sleeve of her robe.

"Aayla," she clipped, "I'm going to need a pickup at these coordinates in—" She looked down at Bail, then at the generator and seemed to do some mental calculation "—thirty minutes."

Able to think again, Bail suddenly realized that something had been gnawing at him since they had leapt off the Senate pod. "Leia," he breathed, "how are you doing this?"

Leia looked at him, a confused expression on her face. "Doing what?"

Bail's eyes widened. He took a deep, measured breath. "I suppose it might not occur to someone who has been raised among superhumans that what you've done is remarkable, but I assure that it is." Leia shrugged, but said nothing. "I wouldn't ask where you managed to find the strength to carry an eighty-kilo man while jumping off a senate pod into a hundred-plus meter drop without hurting either of us, normally. It's just that…"

Leia raised an eyebrow. "It's just that…?"

"Well, I understood that the Jedi had all lost their powers, Leia." He suddenly felt as if he were in negotiations with a Hutt and that any wrong move would end with him being fed to a horrible beast of some kind. "Was that a ruse of some kind? To what purpose?"

Silence hung in the air for several seconds while Leia stared at Bail. Finally she spoke. "I suppose there's little point in hiding it since you'll find out eventually anyway."

Without another word, Leia grabbed the hem of her white Senate robes and pulled them up and over her head. She tossed the robes over the side and looked back at Bail, who stared at her in stunned silence.

Standing with one leg straight and the other bent slightly at the knee, Leia stood before Bail in a skin-tight black body suit that went up to her neck and covered every inch of her body up to her wrists and ankles. Interwoven into the fabric were dull, grey metal circuits of varying shapes and sizes that managed to almost be invisible save for the occasional glint of light off them as she moved. Around her waist, Leia wore a small harness of some kind that had five discs attached to it—the largest of which was at the point where a belt buckle would normally be. Bail immediately recognized the gear and had to bite back the urge to scream.

"Synskin?" Bail frowned. "Leia, synskin is illegal even in most of the Outer Rim territories! How in the name of the Force did you get one?"

"It's funny the kinds of people you meet when you're in my line of work," Leia smiled.

Bail shook his head. Synskin had been outlawed for good reason. The body suit had been developed during the height of the Clone Wars by an industrious human lieutenant, who wanted to match the strength and agility of, what he called the genetic freaks of the galaxy. Between the Clones and the Jedi, normal humans tended to get in the way of the real fighting and were often reminded of this by their Clone counterparts. The synskin gave the wearer enhanced strength, speed and agility.

But the invention didn't come without a price. It worked, primarily, by stimulating the muscles with massive amounts of energy, in effect making them work at well above capacity. For short periods of time—up to a day or so—the result was a soldier who could almost match the Jedi in speed and skill. But prolonged use of the suit almost always resulted in muscle fatigue and internal organ failure, as all the available nutrients in the user's body were siphoned off to feed the over-stimulated muscles. Eight in ten synskin users died after fifty hours of use or more. Nine in ten died after one-hundred or more hours of use. With a mortality rate that high, even the Hutts had ordered that the suits be banned.

There had been unconfirmed rumors of the suits being sold on the black market for use by bounty hunters, but it never occurred to Bail that he might actually see another human being using one in his lifetime, let alone Leia Skywalker. As he watched her, however, it struck him that he probably should have expected it. She had always seemed uneasy in the Senate. It was nothing that would have been obvious to anyone who did not know her—she was a master politician, especially for one so new to the business. He had asked her about it once or twice, and she had always assured him that it was just his imagination. But now that he saw her dressed in synskin and wearing a personal antigrav belt that included a small shield generator—another illegal device—while carrying around all manner of secret devices, it was clear that she had been more than just uneasy. Leia had been preparing for war.

Bail decided it was best not to waste any more time. Leia wasn't likely to suddenly decide to doff the suit simply because he suggested it to her, so the best he could hope for was to get out of the Senate building as quickly as possible and hope that she wouldn't risk her life further after that. He pulled himself up and faced her.

"Well, I guess we better get going," he said.

Within minutes, they'd drifted down to the catwalk below on the service pod. They were trotting lightly towards the cycling ray shields that allowed fresh air into the core for periodic cooling when a bolt of red particle energy ricocheted off the walkway between him and Leia.

He immediately dropped to the grating, clinging to a small railing as if it could provide him some cover. Leia, for her part, didn't miss a beat. She spun on her heel, withdrawing two blasters from holsters that she carried on her back in a crisscross fashion and fired off two bolts of her own at the gangway above.

"I guess we're doing this the hard way!" she yelled.

Bailed risked a quick glance up at the gangway and let out a slight sigh of relief. The shot had come from a lone trooper—probably a scout doing recon to find the two runaway Senators. At least they weren't completely surrounded. Leia was keeping the trooper busy by letting loose a torrent of fire that mostly kept him ducking and weaving. Leia rushed over to Bail between blasts and grabbed him by the arm.

"When that first shield goes down, I need you to get in as far as you can." She glanced back up at the gangway and fired again. "We won't have much time before he calls his buddies in for backup. I need you to figure out how to shut down all the power at once and get us down that reactor shaft safely while I keep them busy."

Bail's eyes widened. "You want…me…?"

The ray shield dropped.

"Go!!" she screamed and fired off another hail of blaster bolts.

Bail dashed forward, making it down the impromptu pathway nearly a hundred meters before the shields began to energize back into place. Before he knew it, Bail was trapped between two red particle shields and could do nothing more than wait. He spun around and watched as Leia slid toward the first shield while firing up at the lone trooper. The downside to her approach was that she was now completely exposed and the trooper seemed to realize it.

The trooper stood and took careful aim at Leia. Just as pulled the trigger, she leapt high off the platform and into the air, outside of Bail's field of view. A moment later, he saw a bolt carom off the clone's chest and he toppled over the railing. Leia landed fitfully just as the ray shields began to drop again, and dashed down the corridor toward Bail.

She was yelling at him. He couldn't quite make out the words, but he got the message nonetheless. He turned and ran as fast as his weary legs would carry him toward the core.

* * *

Anakin had just cleared the canyon when he heard a scream coming from somewhere up the beach. It sounded like a small child's wail and, before he even realized it, he was running toward the sound despite the rhythmic explosions of pain in his side that he felt with every step.

He just made it to the top of a small dune when he saw the source of the trouble. Two athletic-looking, pale men were each pulling in opposite directions on the arm of a small, dark-skinned girl no older than fourteen standard years. Anakin immediately sized up the situation and snarled.

The boys were probably local university students with wealthy parents and privileged lives. The girl, based on what Anakin gleaned from the Psamtik summaries he'd read, was likely a seaside native. The seasiders were the original inhabitants of Psamtik, but had been pushed to the fringes of the planet's society by the colonists that had come to the planet over the years. Cultures that are driven from their homes by the powerful tend to become to object of derision by the descendants of the interlopers and those that were driven out invariably don't trust any newcomers. In an instant, it was clear to Anakin that Psamtik was no different.

He walked down the dune and approached the struggling trio.

"One warning," Anakin hissed.

The three stopped immediately and looked right at him with wide eyes. The two men were probably no older than twenty years but they were both stocky and powerful-looking. Even if he weren't injured, he reasoned that they would likely pose a problem if things came to blows.

Not that this stopped him.

"This is none of your concern, fragger!" the slightly taller one said. He had jet-black hair and, since the other's hair was a platinum blonde, Anakin immediate named them Black and Blonde in his mind.

Anakin frowned. "Like I said, Black," he said through gritted teeth, "you get one warning. Let her go."

Blonde stepped forward and shoved the girl into Black's arms. "You don't want to do this, old man."

Anakin shook his head before taking a deep breath, wincing as he did so. He immediately cursed himself when he saw Blonde recognize that he was injured. He spread his feet slightly apart and waited. Blonde cast a sidelong glance at Black, who tossed the small girl into the sand and stalked forward. The girl had the good sense to jump up and take off. Anakin nodded to himself.

At the fringes of his mind, Anakin began to feel the Force beckon to him, as if demanding that he use it to fight off the two university boys. Instead, he clenched his fists and readied himself.

Blonde, clearly the leader of the pair, raised his chin slightly. "You walk away now, old man, and we won't hurt you." Black moved to Anakin's left side and Anakin let out an internal sigh of relief—they didn't know what side of his was hurt, if any. "You've got three sec—"

Anakin sprang into action, immediately thrusting his mechanical fist into Blonde's face, crunching bone against the metal and getting showered in a gush of blood. Blonde stumbled backwards, holding his face and screaming in agony.

Black didn't wait for Anakin to turn. He launched himself forward, crashing into Anakin as he wrapped his huge arms around Anakin's frame. Both men tumbled to the ground and Anakin let out a scream of agony as he heard and felt his cracked ribs complete the break. Black took immediate advantage of the situation, scrambling atop Anakin and pinning his arms with is knees.

He tried to push Black off, but every strain of his muscles tore at the wound in his side. Black, for his part, grinned triumphantly as he raised his fist high and brought it down at Anakin's face. Anakin turned his head at the last second and took the brunt of the blow on his cheek, rather than on his nose. Even so, the shot caused an explosion of sparks behind Anakin's eyes and it was all he could do not to black out then and there.

Black, seemingly intent on ending the fight with a permanent solution, interlaced the fingers of both his hands and raised his double-fist above his head. On instinct, Anakin twisted his metal hand and grabbed Black's ankle. Before Black could respond, Anakin squeezed tightly and twisted at the same time. The sickening sound of the bone snapping in Anakin's hand preceded the anguished howl that erupted from Black.

He rolled off Anakin and onto his back, gripping his shattered ankle and screaming in pain. Blonde, who could barely see through his tear-filled eyes brought on by his fractured nose, charged at Anakin. Anakin struggled to his feet.

"Kill you! Kill you!" Blonde screamed.

Watching Blonde charge forward at full speed, Anakin dropped back to the ground and thrust his feet in Blonde's direction. His solid boots connected with Blonde's knees and both twisted horribly backwards, accompanied by the horrifying crunch of shattered bone. Blonde joined Black in loud shrieks of pain, but Anakin was too worried about his own agony to hear them.

He struggled to his feet, gripping his side and shaking his head in a desperate attempt to clear the white-hot shards of torment shooting up from what felt like every part of his body. He struggled to see, but everything was growing rapidly blurry. It took him a few moments of struggling away from the screaming forms of Black and Blonde to realize that the hand he was holding his side with was wet and sticky.

He pulled it away and looked at his palm. It was covered in dark, near-black blood. Placing his hand back to his side to feel around, he was greeted with the disconcerting sensation of touching his protruding rib. The pounding in his head seemed to grow steadily worse with each passing second and he had pretty much given up any hope of ever seeing again through the blur of pain he felt.

"No good deed…" he gasped, and then the world went black.


	18. Edge of the Darkness, Ch 8, Part III

**Chapter 8,**

**Fall of the Old Republic, Part III**

The thrum of power in the battle station sent a steady vibration through the soles of Vos' boots. He clenched his fists so tightly that his long nails, uncut from months of neglect, cut into his palms. A trickle of blood seeped from his hands onto the cold, grey durasteel table at which he sat. His breath came in increasingly shorter bursts despite his best efforts to calm himself. He glared at the dozens of pyramids scattered about on the table, frustrated at his inability to touch them.

"I _will_ consider unshackling you, Master Vos." Xander's baritone voice reverberated in the cramped, durasteel room. "I just need your assurance that you won't attempt to escape. Do you think you can do that?"

Vos stared ahead, silent. Xander was trying to win him over, Vos knew. Standard interrogation technique. Treat the prisoner well, offer the prisoner something he desires as a show of good faith, and then get him to open up and give up the information he was holding back.

The problem was that Vos couldn't imagine what information Xander could possibly want from him. Weeks-months?-of torture without a single question asked. Now Xander had him sitting in front of the very thing he had set out to find nearly a year before, offering to let him examine the holocrons, all without asking a single question.

Vos glanced across the table again, confirming that all thirty-three holocrons were there. For a fleeting moment, he caught himself panicking that the missing holocron would be among them, but the moment passed with relief. Before he had come upon the Battle station that captured him, Mace had reported in that he somehow found a way to access the device despite his loss of connection with the Force, and was following its lead to some mid-rim water planet.

"Master Vos," Xander intoned again, "we both want the same thing. Why don't we work together instead of remaining enemies?"

Vos frowned. "And what is it that you think I want?" he asked flatly.

Xander smiled and slid around the table. It was a small concession on Vos' part to speak at all, and he could tell that Xander was encouraged.

Xander sat across from Vos, a toothless smile on his lips. He folded his hands together and placed his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. "Where is it, Vos? Where did Windu take the missing holocron?"

Vos struggled to hide his surprise. He was less than successful, his momentary widened eyes giving him away to the perceptive Xander.

"Oh, don't look so shocked." Xander smiled triumphantly as he leaned back into his chair. "You left your wife and son behind to chase us down for months. Surely you didn't think we would believe it was out of some grief-stricken rage over Skywalker's dead wife, did you?"

Vos took a deep breath and struggled to unclench his fists. "If you know so much," he answered through gritted teeth, "why do you need me?"

Xander raised a brow. "You were quite thorough in deleting all your files before we were able to bring you on board. You're clearly gifted in the art of subterfuge." His smile vanished and he straightened his back. "Let's stop the games, shall we? You know where he is, and I want the holocron. I'm willing to exchange the rest for that knowledge. I'll even give you your freedom. Just _tell me where it is._"

Vos didn't even try to control his reaction this time. Xander had completely destroyed the façade of interrogation. He'd given away his position. What became immediately obvious in that single moment was that there were no lengths to which Xander would not go in order to get a hold of the device. The fact that Xander would make so obvious a blunder was telling. The man was far more dangerous than Vos had imagined.

"You're a Jedi," Xander pressed. "People are dying around you. The galaxy is undergoing utter upheaval, the Republic as you know it is dead, and you and your kind are powerless. You have bigger issues to worry about than where some three-hundred year old meaningless device might be hidden. Tell me what I need to know, and I'll set you free."

Vos swallowed hard. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Do you think this station is here to house the likes of us?" Xander spat. "Only hours ago, the Republic shipyards of Kuat were wiped out of existence. Soon we'll be at Coruscant, where Tarkin will take charge of the entire Republic. I'm your only hope of getting off this ship and maybe saving a few Jedi before Tarkin and Ventress let loose their wrath on the galaxy." Xander let the dramatic news hang in the air, his eyes focused on Vos. "Where is the holocron?"

Vos collapsed back into his chair, a marionette with its strings cut. Xander leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"I hold you in the highest regard, Quinlan," he said softly. "I know you're absorbing a great deal, but time is of the essence. I _must _know where it is and you need to tell me before we drop out of hyperspace, or I may not be able to get you off this station."

Vos looked up at Xander, trying desperately to grasp what was happening. His mind raced. "I...I won't tell you," Vos finally replied.

Xander lowered his head in obvious disappointment.

"But..." Vos continued. "I'll take you to it."

* * *

"Do you know who he is, Master...?" The voice was tentative, soft. Like a young girl's.

Anakin struggled to open his eyes, but only managed a faint squint, letting a blurred kaleidoscope of muted browns and soft firelight to slip through his eyelids. Where was he?

"I told you not to call me that."

The man who answered had spoken softly, his voice deep and soothing. There was not a hint of irritation in his tone, though for some reason Anakin felt as if there should have been. A dark shadow moved above him and blocked the faint light that filtered into Anakin's eyes.

"Sorry...Caleb. It's just...you're so wise"

Anakin struggled to open his mouth, noticing for the first time how dry it was. No sooner had the thought occurred to him, than he felt a gourd of some kind against his lips and strong, powerful hands behind his head, lifting it.

"Do not worry, my friend," came the soothing voice, almost musical in its comforting tone, "drink up, and then you'll be able to speak." Anakin caught of flash of light as the man leaning over him turned his head. "Thank you, Alana. That will be all."

Anakin furrowed his brow, trying to remember how he came to be where he was, but nothing came. Questions wanted to race to the fore of his consciousness, but he felt as if he was swimming in the murky depths of Kamino's oceans, fighting an unassailable current. Who was this man with a soothing voice? How had Anakin gotten here? How long had the gourd been at his lips now?

Anakin forced his eyes open and glared at the man above him. Jet black hair hung from the man's head, flowing in thick, luxurious curls that framed the dark-skinned face that leaned over him. He looked like any typical Seasider, though Anakin had no doubt that he was anything but. The man's face was the picture of serenity, staring down at him with piercing brown eyes that seemed willing to wait an eternity for Anakin to choose to drink.

No smile appeared on the man's face when he spoke again, though Anakin could almost swear he heard it in his voice. "Not a very trusting man, are you, Master Skywalker?" he tilted the drink to Anakin's closed lips. "I understand your reservations, but I mean you no harm. I am a healer. Please. Drink. I will answer your questions when you have strength to ask them."

Anakin opened his mouth slightly and let the liquid hit his tongue and had to fight the urge to recoil at the bitter brew. Instead, he swallowed.

The drink flowed down his throat, leaving a warm trail as it went. Even as he felt the small sip that he took begin to take hold in his stomach, the warmth in his throat started to spread through the rest of his body, rapidly imbuing Anakin with prickling sensations everywhere at once. For a brief instant, he felt as if he had just been filled with the Force.

"Yes," the Seasider said as he pulled the gourd away and lowered Anakin's head onto the soft cot on which Anakin lay, "it's quite a brew. Took me a long time to perfect it, but I suspect you'll enjoy the effects."

Anakin struggled to understand what was happening. He reached up with his flesh hand to feel for his wounded ribs, but only felt soft, unbroken skin where shattered bone had protruded before. He frowned in confusion. His thirst was completely gone. He felt as rested and strong as he could remember being in over a year.

The Seasider leaned back and crossed his arms, eyeing Anakin with apparent interest.

Anakin sat up.

The man cupped his hair on either side of his face, and combed it back with his hands, tying it off behind his head, and leaving the excess to fall free. He stood and walked to a cauldron being kept warm by a fire a meter away and ladled something into another gourd.

Anakin took in his surroundings. They were in a small, wooden hut that appeared to have been constructed out of twigs and thatch. He was sitting on the only cot in the entire hut, a piece of some kind of animal skin that had been laid over wool atop a wooden bench. The floor was dark brown, hardened dirt, somehow still managing to appear immaculately clean despite this. The only other furnishings in the hovel were a rickety-looking wooden table on which an assortment of gourds and cooking tools and spices lay, and the cauldron at which the Seasider now stood.

Suddenly Anakin felt his stomach growl. Again, the Seasider displayed almost precognitive recognition of Anakin's needs as he handed him a gourd filled with a vegetable stew.

"The medicine I gave you helps heal the body, but doesn't quite fill a man's stomach," the Seasider said, the smile obvious in his voice, though absent from his face. "Eat up. We have much to discuss, Anakin."

That was the second time the man had used his name but Anakin had never met him before. For reasons that completely escaped him, though, Anakin instinctively trusted this man completely. He felt...at peace...in his presence.

"How..." Anakin stared hard at the man who turned to face him when Anakin spoke. "How do you know me?"

The Seasider seemed to consider this for a long time before raising both his eyebrows in what must have been this man's version of a shrug. "I am Caleb."

* * *

"Jump!" Leia yelled.

Bail stared over the precipice. It sank away into oblivion for all he knew. There was no end to the bottom of that ventilation shaft. He had no idea where it lead, or how far they would slide as it curved out of sight. He looked back at the ray shields, far on the other side of which were a growing number of clone troopers, brandishing weapons and actively seeking a way to shut them down.

He stared down at the precipice again.

"No," he said flatly.

"Bail!" Leia snapped. "Do you _see_ what's coming? Synskin or not, I can't hold them all off. Now jump!"

Bail looked again. "Leia, I'm too old for this kind of thing. We'll be stuck at the bottom of some shaft, unable to get out. What then?"

"Oh, _kraff_ _it!_" Leia growled. She grabbed the distinguished Senator from Alderaan by the lapel and hoisted him over into the shaft, dropping him like a rag doll. The ray shields dropped. She glanced backward for a moment, ignoring the outraged screams from Bail and halted in her tracks.

The clone troopers weren't advancing, their commanders holding their hands to the sides of their helmets in a clear sign that they were receiving incoming instructions. A moment later, hand signals went up and fifteen clone troopers turned around and headed back out of the bowels of the Senate Coliseum.

"What in the..." Leia narrowed her eyes. "Damn. They're almost here."

She leaped into the shaft, straightening her body to speed her descent. It didn't take long for her to see Bail ahead, flailing desperately to try and slow himself down. Leia shook her head and reached into her robe to pull out a communicator. "Aayla, are you there?"

_"Leia! Thank the Force!"_ Aayla's voice came over instantly. _"What's going on? There's a garrison blocking all the entrances. RNet's full of repots that this Tarkin character is heading here now! Are you-"_

"Later," Leia cut her off. She scanned ahead and saw that she was gaining on Bail. She needed to get this done quickly. She checked the numbers on the insides of the shaft as they flashed by, and did a quick mental calculation. Hoping she was right, she snapped into the communicator, "Aayla, I need you at the southeast corner of section 41138 in about ninety seconds. I've got company. For the love of the Force, you better catch us."

_"On it!" _

The communicator went out and Leia stowed it. She spun onto her stomach and darted toward Bail. In seconds, she was right next to him and had to work to slow her descent to match his. She reached out to grab hold of him, but he thwarted her every move as he was continuing to swing his arms madly about.

"Damn it, Bail!" she hollered, "If you don't man up right this second, I swear I'm going to cut your arms off!"

Bail's eyes widened, but he did hold still for a brief moment. She grabbed him hard and pulled her lightsaber out.

"Wait!" Bail screamed. "What're you doing? You weren't serious, were you?"

Leia twisted the hilt in her hand, scanned the walls again before activating the weapon, and then shoved the energized blade hard to the hilt into the shaft on which they slid. Flash-molten metal erupted in the shaft and burned holes in their clothes as the lightsaber slowed their descent to a stop.

They came to a stop at a thirty-degree incline-a low enough grade to ensure that they wouldn't start sliding again when Leia released the blade. She glared at Bail and shook her head for a second time in as many minutes.

Bail looked around the shaft. "Where are we?" he panted, clearly trying to calm himself.

"If I'm right, we're just outside of the Coliseum," Leia answered as she stood and inspected the numbers on the side of the ducting. "Yep. Looks like it. Alright, Bail. One more little adventure and we're all done for today."

"One more...?" Bail's mouth fell open.

Leia wasted no time. She carefully moved about ten meters down the shaft and lit her lightsaber again. Once again she shoved the blade into the floor of the shaft and began to carve a hole into it. It took her less than five seconds to complete the haphazard circle, but it was more than serviceable.

She frowned.

Normally, a simple summoning of the Force would have been enough to overcome the adhesion her new exit held to the rest of the shaft due to the molten metal. That wasn't exactly an option.

"Bail," she called out to the sitting Senator, who seemed quite happy to remain where he was in perpetuity. "Let's go."

He sighed resignedly, stood, and walked to where Leia stood. "What now?"

"You and I are going to jump on this spot at the same time, alright?" she answered.

He looked down at the white hot molten mass of metal that surrounded the point at which Leia pointed. "Leia..."

"Bail," she interrupted. "I need you. Please."

Bail let out a long breath. "Alright..." he walked toward the center of the spot. "Alright. What happens after that?"

Leia joined him and held onto his shoulders. "Hopefully, we'll fall," she answered matter-of-factly. "Make sure you hold onto me, Bail." Leia pulled out her communicator. "Aayla, are you ready?"

_"I'm running a bit behind," _she answered and the sound of blaster fire came over the communicator. _"Ran into some...interference. This is gonna be close, Leia, and I don't exactly have the Force to guide me here!"_

Bail's eyes widened.

Leia smiled reassuringly. "She'll catch us."

A bead of sweat formed on Bail's head.

"Let's do this before the metal cools. On three...one...two..."

"You're _sure_ she'll catch us?"

"Three!"

* * *

It is often said that on the first day of the New Galactic Empire, the Old Republic breathed its last breath. Whatever happened after that day, everyone knew, the Galaxy, as its people had known it, would never be the same. Decades and even centuries later, historians would argue about precisely how massive the battle station that arrived in orbit around the city-planet of Coruscant on that day was. What they all agreed on was that the moon-sized monstrosity sent the planet into an absolute panic, and nowhere was that panic more evident than in the halls of the Senate.

Perhaps one of the most succinct and powerful accounts of events is found in the fictional account in the popular holonovel, _Sins of the Emperor. _The historical drama focused on the complex character of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, who walked into the Senate with an unknown woman at his side, her head covered by a dark cowl and brought the galaxy to its knees.

_Tarkin scanned the sea of Senators, a faint smile upon his thin lips. With a curt nod from the Grand Moff, a pod retrieved him and his mysterious companion, and brought them to the center of the Arena. Certain he had their absolute attention, Tarkin spoke with the crisp clip of the Coruscanti, keeping his perfect posture rigid in solemn recognition of the events that he was about to set in motion. _

_"Senators of the Old Republic," he began. It was a simple turn of phrase, but it was a death-knell as well. No Senator in the room missed its meaning. "I come to you to introduce you to your new leader." _

_At that moment, he turned and guided his guest to his side. She was thin, but moved like a powerful storm. When she slid the cowl from her head and faced the throng, collective gasps went through the crowd. Most were too young to remember the stories of the deadly warrior, Asajj Ventress. Even so, her pallid skin and bald skull were enough to make them recoil in fear of her. Those who knew what she had done were all the more terrified._

_Ventress said little on that day. Tarkin slipped into the background, only a hint of the fear of her he shared with the rest of the Senate on his face. Perhaps he knew what she meant when she spoke, and that was why his lips tightened as they did. _

_The Empress of the New Galactic Empire had only scanned the crowd with a sneer, and spat five words before turning her back on the Old Republic and ordering the deaths of over half of the Senate. Before the blasts erupted from the troopers' weapons, ripping heads from bodies and burning holes into chests, none of the Senators understood what she meant. _

_But Tarkin must have known, for when she had said it, he closed his eyes and let out a slow, silent breath-the look of man defeated by something greater and more powerful than he had imagined. He must have known by that point that the lover he had thought was under his thumb was capable of a ruthlessness he had never imagined. Even if he didn't, watching her impassive face as the troopers viciously killed indiscriminately until she finally brought them to a halt with a silent raising of her hand certainly made her true nature clear._

_Yes. Tarkin must have known. He was no longer relevant. He had no part to play in those five words she had spoken, and perhaps that was why he chose to follow her rather than be crushed by her boot. The irony of her words must have rung as hollow in his ears as the words themselves would ring in the ears of the rest of the galaxy under her rule._

_He knew that she would never let the galaxy forget those words so long as she had the power to make it remember. And remind the galaxy's people she did. She had those five words emblazoned beneath her throne, where she would rest her feet atop them, a fitting indication of how she would rule. _

_The Museum of Galactic History would one day hold the throne of the First Galactic Empire as its most prized possession. Her only spoken words to the Senate on that day would remain preserved there for all time._

_"Now, we shall have peace."_


End file.
